Crimson Tales: A Final Fantasy XII Story
by Sefirosukuraodo
Summary: Disturbing news resonates through Larsa's ears, and he has no choice but to call upon the help of his friends once more, but will Balthier be willing to help when his past hunts him down for the kill?
1. Chapter 1: And so it begins

A/N: This was originally a storyline I had come up with for an RPG Maker 2k3 game, until I realized; no one really plays those anymore (even though it was the best in the series in my opinion…). But here I lay my thoughts anew, and hopefully you enjoy this little story of mine.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Final Fantasy XII, or any of its characters, events, and history.

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It hardly rained in Archades, yet tonight had apparently been chosen to be the exception of exceptional examples that, when it did rain, no one dared to be caught in its wrath. Do to the strong wind that was already natural to their climate, when the rain had decided to show its unmasked face of power, it held no bounds for compassion. It pelted anyone, feeling as though a hundred marksmen were executing one, yet one did not die, and they fired endlessly.

Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, fourth son to the late Gramis Solidor, and sole survivor to the steps of House Solidor. Now the final words of House Solidor had been written, and the book had been closed, forever closing that chapter of Archadian history. For now, those halls were hollowed, and Larsa had decided it sufficient to take down from the crest the Blade of Fortitude, and place it somewhere close to him for safekeeping. He knew not what would become of the structure that was once his home, now that he had reign over the Palace of the Senate, and he cared not. Though his memories walked the bare floors, those remnants would pass on, and the house would be nothing more than brick and stone.

The hand on the clock, mounted boastingly behind Larsa had already stroked past midnight, and was making its way quickly to dawn. He could not believe how time had been passing ever stealthily as of late. He wondered what was taking so long for this man to arrive, and his eyes were pleading for mercy, begging him to let his eye lids fall, if only for one minute. However, their prayers had been cast aside then there had come an urgent rapping on his chamber door, quickly tapping, then patiently awaiting. He called out to his visitor,

"Come in."

The large doors were opened, and pushed aside with a force as Gabranth rushed through them with presence, and kneeled before his emperor.

"Lord Larsa, your grace, Sir Al-Cid has arrived." He addressed mechanically, and lifted his head to look into the eyes of his king. Larsa nodded, and lifted his hand to signal his approval. Gabranth stood, and hastily turned his shoulder, stalking out of the room. Larsa waltzed around to his desk, and sat slowly, when he heard the plodded footsteps of Al-Cid through his door. Once he and his servant, a frail thin girl with long dark hair, were inside, Gabranth curtly shut the chamber door behind them.

"Ah, my little Emperor, you've changed these past few months." Al-Cid said, slowly walking toward the open chair before Larsa's desk. "Why it seems like only yesterday that you were only chest high; I suppose ruling an empire has turned you a man grown, no?"

"Al-Cid, you've changed little… if at all… Please, you must accept my apologies for my apparent absence these last few months, I've had too many issues on my plate, and no help to rely on." Larsa began, standing, and sitting on the edge of the hard wood surface.

"So I've heard, those senators of yours are good for begging and wasting away your taxes, but little good are they for solving matters of upkeep." Al-Cid spoke into his hand as he rested his chin into his palm. "But no matter, I've finally an audience with you now."

"As does your brother tomorrow morning." Larsa added. He observed the man before him, and no matter how many years had gone by he just never seemed to age, mature. Neither had his personality.

"Which is exactly why I've been trying so earnestly to reach you before he does, even if only six hours before your meeting. To warn you, my little emperor." Al-Cid said, now sitting up with a stern look in his face, forcing the poor girl beside him to become rigid with the anticipation of an order. He reached out his hand, and she quickly, and obviously nervously, produced from her side a small book; a journal.

"And what might you be warning me of? Do you really think your brother has ill intention?" Larsa asked, amused with where this conversation was quickly going. Al-Cid remained silent, and tossed this small journal onto Larsa's desk. Larsa quickly reached for the Ceourl hide bound booklet, when Al-Cid grabbed his hand with swift speed.

"I warn you not from my brother's intentions, but of what his intentions might bring about." He told Larsa. Larsa looked to the journal for a moment, but let his hand drop back to his side once Al-Cid let go. He figure it was best to hear what the man had to say first and foremost so that he might at least understand what he was reading. "Seven months ago, my brother had spent three weeks conducting an investigation on the Phon Coast. As to what remained to me an elusive mystery, yet still there was no reason for anyone to stop him-"

"I would have," Larsa interrupted, a slight tinge of anger upon his cheeks. "The Phon Coast is Archadian territory, he needs jurisdiction before he can even bury his shovel an inch into an excavation site." Al-Cid could see the annoyance in his young friend's face; apparently he did not like people undergoing plans right under his nose.

"Yes, well, I'm sure you can cover that with him in a few hours. But here is where my worries lie. He did recover something, apparently something he felt he had to keep confidential. When returning, this item had been kept hidden from me, and everyone else. Until one day, an old friend of yours brought me that very journal that now lies upon your hands – it is the very journal that my brother used to write all of his finding during those three weeks." Al-Cid told him, eyeing the book. Larsa, too, was looking at the face, almost too overcome by curiosity as to what secret lie within its pages to bring Al-Cid to such urgency. "Before you even ask, yes, I have read its contents, and they disturb me well, as you may already know."

"Who brought you the journal?" Larsa asked, suddenly curious as to who might have stolen such an item.

"A Sky Pirate with an ambition for entrances." Al-Cid said, Larsa nodding in a smirk.

"I was wondering what had happened to them, I hadn't seen or heard from either of them since the sky fortress." Larsa said, mostly to himself. Perhaps Fran and Balthier were already suspicious of the elder Margrace's intent.

"Nay, little emperor, he works alone now, only the Pirate remains. Apparently his partner had come across a mishap a while ago, and she no longer walks this world." Al-Cid corrected him, his visage nonchalant, though his voice conveyed a pity of sympathy for his friend. Larsa's eyes grew dark for a moment, and then looked to Al-Cid.

"Al-Cid, you have been my friend for the better part of a decade, and though our ages differ, our like minds do not, and I thank you for your trust." Larsa said, placing a hand on Al-Cid's shoulder. "I've never questioned that trust that I lay on our friendship, but I must ask, why do you bring this to me?" he asked. Al-Cid shook his head, thinking momentarily before answering.

"That I have yet to decide." He said before standing. "Ah, but alas I must take my leave, Larsa. Until next we meet, my little emperor." He said before Larsa could ask any further questions. Al-Cid left, trailed closely by his servant girl, and Gabranth came in soon after they were gone. Larsa saw the concern on his brow beneath that scar upon his head.

"He simply wanted to give me this, and to lay on my hands a warning." Larsa informed the Judge Magister. Gabranth looked to the desk where the journal lie.

"What say you of this matter?" he asked Larsa. Larsa placed a finger to his cheek, and contemplated this with question with serious thought.

"I… I don't know." Larsa said. "But I don't think he would make the trip for nothing. I can't make any decisions about this until I read that journal, and speak with Sir Al Zed Margrace. Then, depending on the outcome…" Larsa trailed off, leaving Gabranth to wonder what was racing through that mind of his.

"Excellency?" Gabranth asked, Larsa finally coming out of his trance.

"Basch, I have a request." Larsa said.

"Lord Larsa, do not refer to me by that name in the senate palace!" Gabranth whispered with haste. Larsa shook his head.

"But it isn't my Judge Magister that I'm asking. Though I understand your reasons for discrepancy, you need not fear eager ears, we are safe here. Rather I'm asking my friend, my brother, so what say you Basch?" Larsa said, then letting the silence settle in, with the exception of the rain pounding the windowpanes. Basch bowed and spoke to the ground.

"To the grave I would go, if that were the place you would wish to send errand." Basch said. Larsa smiled, and patted his friend on the back.

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Oh, didn't this just seem all too familiar. Slouching against the wall, all she could think, all that she could hope was that the two of them would find her quickly. These Bungalows were old, and all matter of root and moss had made its roost here. She felt that if she moved, or even breathed the wrong way, the entire structure would fall, and then what would be left of Penelo?

Why did those four always insist that Balthier would come at the word of her capture? The first time, sure, he felt responsible, but she really hoped that word had indeed reached him because no one could ever find where he hid himself these days.

"Check on the girl; make sure her hide is still in one piece. Should Balthier not show his face, at least we'll have a tender meal ahead of us!" She heard Ba'Gamnan shout. She heard the labored steps of one of them coming toward her, she believed the name was Buwagee, or something close to that, but she wasn't quite sure. The bounty hunter stalked through the entrance, and sneered at Penelo past the long snout. The girl cringed at the rows of teeth, and the hunter had apparently found this amusing.

"Well I know I can always count on the smell to lead me to you!" Penelo heard, the sweet symphony of that familiar voice raising her spirits. Bwagi quickly ran outside and Penelo heard a loud thud, before hearing a flood of laughter from all of the hunters. Penelo shook her head, only imagining that one of them had made a rush for the pirate, and he had somehow miraculously flipped their entire body with a flick of the wrist. There was no way to know for sure, but in Penelo's mind, Balthier couldn't lose; when had he ever lost before her?

"D'Aargh! This'll not be happening again!" Ba'Gamnan shouted. The captive girl smirked, and then frowned when she heard the next voice enter the play.

"That's quite enough antics, Balthier." The pirate heard. He dash around to face the source of these words, apparently oblivious as to whom this newcomer was. He was no Bangaa, no, but a Hume. She stood tall in her leather-clad frame, weapons close to her side. Two scimitars, they'd tasted blood before by the looks of them. The woman smirked, flicking a few strands of her raven hair out of her eyes. "You come peacefully and we'll have no reason to harm that poor girl."

"We may even let her go." Came another voice, standing one of the lower branches in the Salikawood. This man held no weapon, but stared into Balthier's face through long golden locks. Balthier smirked, and turned to Ba'Gamnan.

"Needing help these days, eh? I suppose I'm just too much for you to handle, even when I'm outnumbered." He smirked. They stared at him, wondering why he was so sure of himself.

"Let me ask you something; what do you think would happen if I pulled the trigger?" Balthier asked, pointing his gun not toward the tall Hume woman, yet past her. They all turned to see exactly where it was that he was aiming, when they all found it; A rather large bomb, roaming only twenty feet or so away. "Why don't we find out, shall we?"

After a loud, searing bang, Penelo jumped, wondering what was going on. She stood, and attempted to make a run for the door when someone had run into her.

"Ah, just the girl I wanted to see." Balthier said. Penelo sighed when he took her arms into his hands. "Seen any kidnapped sidekicks around here?" he asked sarcastically, she laughed slightly, until he yanked her hand and began to run.

"Balthier, what's going on, why are we running?" she asked. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Ba'Gamnan and his crew chasing after them. She quickened her pace, but then she saw that they weren't chasing after them, rather running from the thing that was chasing after them. A very large and intimidating bomb was close in foot. "Balthier! What did you do!?"

"Distraction, my dear, distraction!" he yelled as they ran around the boardwalks. He led her up a few sets of stairs, and then stopped when they were standing halfway over a bridge. Penelo tried to keep running to make it to the other side, when Balthier gripped her hand tighter.

"Come on, we have to keep going!" She said. Balthier shook his head.

"We can run around these woods all day and that thing would still pursue. No, what we have to do is jump." He told her. Penelo took a second glance at him, and then stared completely. Jump, was he crazy? She leaned closer to the edge of the ropes, and looked down. After about a hundred feet, the mist had grown too thick, and she could see no ground.

"We'll never survive that!" She said turning back to him.

"And yet it's our only hope – bon voyage!" he said as he pushed her over the bridge. She yelled and screamed her lungs out as she went over. Balthier watched her as she screamed, and screamed, rubbing his forehead as she float there before him, screaming on for ages. She finally opened her eyes, and looked around. She was not falling to her death, but rather sitting on something unseen.

"I'm not dead," she said to herself, feeling around her.

"Yes, and the next time I'm trying to save your life, I would appreciate it if you would trust me when I say jump." He told her annoyingly. He jumped over himself, and landed on his invisible ground. He stomped twice with his foot, and out of thin air appeared the Strahl. She should have known.

"Now if you would kind jump down into this hatch… or are you afraid you'll fall to your death in there as well?" he said, giving her the smuggest of looks. She stood in a huff, and pushed past him, dropping inside the airship. Balthier was about to step inside himself when an arm grabbed him.

"We're not finished yet!" the female hunter shouted, bringing her blade quickly toward him. He jumped back, trying not to fall off of the Strahl's back. Balthier smiled a sly grin.

"Oh I believe we are," he winked before dropping inside the ship, and closing the hatch. The woman was about to bring her blade through the hatch, and force it open, until she felt a heat from behind. There behind her was the large, and heated face of the bomb. Before a scream could escape her lips, it had set itself off, self destructing, as the Strahl took flight, dodging trees, through the tops, and out into the sky. "Rotten spot of luck for her, I suppose. Not the best career ending move, but I'm sure she'll be missed." He said nonchalantly, as Penelo flew them out of there. She tuned him out as she concentrated on putting the ship on autopilot. When he felt a jerk beneath his feet, he knew that they were now soaring at a fixed speed.

"I never did learn how to work that gadget." He said to himself, as Penelo stood out of the pilot's seat and made her way toward him. He figured the poor girl wanted him to hold her as she thanked him or something like that. He was about to comfort her when he felt her open palm against his face.

"That's for pushing me over a bridge!" she said. He brought his face back to look at her, and as his lips parted to speak, she smacked his other cheek. "And that's for getting me into all this trouble in the first place! This was all your fault y'know."

"My fault?" he scoffed, scowling after her as she walked away and to his ex-partner's usual seat.

"Of course! This is the second time I've been kidnapped because of _your_ bounty!" she said, folding her arms and looking out the window.

"And haven't I always applied a hasty rescue? I should think you owe more gratitude to your knight," Balthier said, taking his seat and rubbing his sore face.

"Hmph! A Onion knight, maybe…" Penelo said, beginning to lose herself in view and thought alike. She watched the world pass her by, catching glimpses of it when the clouds beneath them decided to part. She could see the peaks of the Mosphoran Highwaste as they glided above it. Within minutes they would be crossing over Fort Nalbina, and then on to Rabanastre.

"I think you've spent too much time admiring Fran, with that wit of yours…" Balthier said to himself. He then reprimanded himself, and mentally kicked himself for bringing up the Viera.

"Where is Fran, by the way? You two are practically inseparable; is she off doing something else for a while? Scaling more treasure?" Penelo pummeled him with questions, now back to her light hearted nature and immensely interested. Balthier remained silent, only shaking his head, not to answer her questions, but rather to rid himself of the creeping guilt.

"No," he began, yet didn't know how to finish the sentence. How could he? What was he to say to the poor girl? Fran was just as much her friend as she was his, and now he had to write out the ghastly truth. "She's dead." He stated. Simple as that, he had been done with the deed, though he couldn't help glancing here and there to see how Penelo had taken the news. She simply sat back into the seat, bringing one knee to her chest and wrapping her arms around it.

"When?" She asked, the emotion apparent in her voice, though she strained to make it sound somewhat together.

"About seven months ago, when we were near the borders of Archades and Nabradia." He told her, glancing to the oncoming Fort. He waited for the young lass to inquire further, yet she refrained her composition. She sat silently, bothering him no more with her questions. But maybe he wanted to be bothered. Maybe he was just waiting for someone to ask what had happened.

They were both silent the rest of the trip back to Rabanastre, Balthier picking an open docking port, and landing inside. Once inside, the Moogle-Aide's 7th troup had immediately begun to check for any steam-wear, for missing fragments in the glossair rings around the stern of the ship.

"I suppose this is it then, right? I'll go back to The Sandsea to look for Vaan, and you'll be off." She said, twiddling her fingers behind her back. Balthier placed a hand on his hip, and leaned to the side, examining the girl's face. "When will I see you again?" she asked. He thought for a moment.

"I suppose you, Vaan and that queen of yours will see me again soon enough." He smirked. Penelo nodded, and turned on her heel to leave. Balthier contemplated on calling out to stop her, maybe give her some more comforting parting words, but he never did. Penelo turned the corner, and left the Aerodrome, leaving Balthier to his thoughts, and regrets.

Penelo walked through Rabanastre, passing little Gurdy and her Chocobo Stall, merchants, and such, pondering the last words she's said to him, and the answer he'd gotten. _'I suppose you, Vaan, and that queen of yours will see me again soon enough.'_ But she didn't ask when they would, she had asked when _she_ would see him again. Did he not think of her as her? Was she only Penelo when accompanied by someone else? Did she not stand alone in his eyes? How could he still see her as a child? So many questions roamed her mind, and she was beginning to get angrier with each conclusion they brought. She was no child, yet she could see it in his eyes when he spoke to her, and the mere thought of such a notion was infuriating.

She had no choice; she was going to have to prove it to him. She would get him to see her not as a child, nor as a companion, but Penelo; the Penelo he'd never seen, the Penelo no one could see, the Penelo that yearned to be tough, independent, and worthy of their respect.

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"Why my young ruler, I've not seen you in many a year, too many for my tastes." Larsa heard as his chamber doors were thrust open. He was surprised, Gabranth had not warned him of the man's presence. Al-Zed Margrace stepped to his own pace, slowly making his way past the doors. "Do not look so shocked, I know I am a bit late, but that's hardly the face I was expecting." He said, noting Larsa's surprised and slightly annoyed look.

Gabranth followed suit, mumbling about how he could not simply waltz though the palace as he pleased, no matter who he was. Al-Zed merely waved his hand at the Judge Magister, as if shooing him. Gabranth, utterly angered, looked to his Excellency for a chance to take care of the man. Larsa shook his head, and Gabranth merely shut the chamber doors as he stepped outside.

"What is it you wanted to discuss with me, an hour ago mind you?" Larsa said, standing and greeting his visitor with a handshake. The eldest Margrace had the face of his younger counterpart; almost too alike they were, in appearance, and presence.

"Why, straight to the matter of things, I like that." Al-Zed laughed, Larsa returning to his chair behind his desk. He leaned back, and interlaced his fingers, waiting to see how Al-Zed would approach this. "As you must have already heard, I had held an excavation on the Phon Coast a while back. Before you settle on the legal aspects of my actions, I fully understand that I should have come to you first and foremost. Forgive me, but my operations had to be done in silence."

"So then explain to me what was so important about this 'operation'?" Larsa motioned his hand toward the seat opposite him. Al-Zed gave the seat a suspicious glance, before finally sitting and looking out the windows of the office. The windows where water stained, and now noticeable dusty, yet the beautiful day outside was still visible.

"Well, It started when I began to hear rumors about a spot off the shores of the Phon Coast," he began, propping a leg upon his bended knee, and leaning further back into his chair. "Fish, birds, and other such creatures were washing ashore, crystallized from the inside out." He said. Larsa gave him a strange look.

"Crystallized? I've never heard of such an affliction… exactly what do you mean by 'crystallized'?" he asked. Al-Zed looked the young emperor in the eyes, and tilted his head into shade.

"They were frozen. And by the state of them, frozen alive, and assumingly instantly." He said. Larsa was now leaning forward.

"Frozen?"

"Aye, and better yet, they never thawed. I have all but one of the specimen to this day, and all of them are still frozen yet." He explained. He shifted his back slightly and turned his neck in an attempt to work a crick out. "Forgive me, but I arrived by common commercial flight. They apparently use Chocobo feathers to stuff their bunks, I am sure you know the comfort of the Garuda-Egi, and how hard it would be to adjust to-"

"All but one specimen? What happened to this 'one' if I may ask?" Larsa cut into his small idle banter. Al-Zed looked to Larsa's desk.

"The specimen that had been brought to me, before I had decided to investigate this matter, was a child of Rozarria. He, and his mother, was traveling by Chocobo to visit family in Archadia. She informed me that they had stopped at the beach for a while, and when he did not return, she ran aloft, looking for him, and ultimately, this was the outcome." He said. Larsa was having a hard time believing what he was hearing. No magicite would freeze a child or anything on its own, it would need to be used by someone with that sort of knowledge. "If you could only have seen him, then you would understand my actions. The life in his eyes, it was still there, but only an illusion, for he was no more.

"As the boy's ice clad figure was brought before me, I noticed that me was holding something, barely tucked between his stone hard fingers. I had asked one of my servants to bring me this small stone, however…" he trailed off. Larsa waited patiently for the man to continue. "However when the stone was touch, my servant, too, was immediately turned to a dead, frozen statue."

"So this stone, what was it?" Larsa asked. Al-Zed glanced out of the window now and again before turning back to Larsa's face.

"What it is, we do not yet know. It's origins, very questionable. What we did know was that it was a shard, a fragment of a much larger stone: a crystal. So to make sure that this would not happen again, and for scientific purposes, we conducted an investigation, and an excavation to recover _all_ of the missing pieces. And, over the course of three weeks, we were successful."

"So then you have reassembled this crystal?" Larsa asked, looking all but angry, quickly forgetting their intrusion. Al-Zed sighed, and shook his head.

"Nay, all of the shards but one have been put together." He said, reaching into one of his coat pockets and producing a small piece of cloth, wrapped around a small object, which Larsa could only assume was this one piece. Larsa reached for the object, and found it to be light. He began to unravel it, when Al-Zed added something for Larsa to hear. "I warn you, young ruler, do not touch the stone at _any_ cost. This frozen state, as time and method has proven, is irreversible."

Larsa unfolded the final piece of folded cloth, and gazed unto this shard. It glowed an ambient blue, and seemed to whisper to him. It chimed in his mind, and promised secrets untold or eons.

"Truth be told, I am not ashamed to admit that I am afraid to place the final piece onto it's hold. These shards obviously contain strong magicks, and to complete the crystal would be completing a slumbering power, which I am almost deathly afraid to see." Al-Zed informed the young man. Larsa was shocked to hear him admit to fear. "So my only option was to bring the shard to you to ensure that the cryst would not be whole, at least until we can hone in its knowledge to our advantage."

"I have gained more trust of your family than I had ever been certain." Larsa said, still gazing at this small object of power. How could such a small stone, barely under an inch in length, have caused so much trouble of its own free will? "Having heard all of the circumstances, I will dismiss your previous actions, so long as I have your word you will inform me of any other goings on you plotted for Archades soil."

"And have it you shall," Al-Zed said, standing, and bowing before turning to take his leave.

"Wait," Larsa called out. "I have something that belongs to you." Al-Zed turned in curiosity, awaiting the other man's charity, and wondering what it could possibly be. Larsa walked behind his desk and withdrew a small, leather bound journal, one that seemed all too familiar.

"And exactly how did your majesty get your hands on that?" Al-Zed asked thoughtfully, striding to Larsa, who held the journal out toward him.

"Believe me, I had no part in the efforts of the thief, and I apologize for your trouble. I hope this will not jeopardize our loyalty to our kingdoms." He said as Al-Zed quickly snatched up the book. He gave a curt smile, and nodded.

"Of course not, your grace." He replied, before turning his back and heading for the doors. He stopped in mid step, yet did not bother to turn around before asking, "Have you read it?" he asked. Larsa sighed, and replied after only a moment's delay.

"No." he said. Al-Zed turned and headed for the door. Once he was gone, Larsa looked back to the item upon his desk. There the royal blue crystal shard lay open, and awaiting to see what Larsa's next actions would be. Larsa then heard the familiar curt tapping before answering it, telling Gabranth to come in. Doing so, it appeared that he was not alone. Walking past him, and quickly rushing toward Larsa was Penelo.


	2. Chapter 2: Forgive me

"Larsa!" Penelo yelled as she threw her arms about his neck. He slowly brought his up and around her frame, smiling to the welcoming gesture. Gabranth smiled, and gazed onward.

"Good to see you too. I see the Sky Pirate's life hasn't made you any less affectionate." He laughed. Penelo stood back, holding onto his shoulders. Larsa had grown in the past two years. She then saw his friendly face turn to worry. She turned to face Gabranth; apparently he had been waiting for Larsa to say something. They seemed to exchange understanding looks, and nodded. "Penelo, if you'll excuse me momentarily, Gabranth and I have something important to discuss." The girl nodded silently, with a blank expression lying on her cheeks.

As the two began to stalk out of the office, Penelo noticed something glowing brightly upon Larsa's desk.

"What's this? You aren't playing with more Nethicite are you? Something I should hold for you again?" she tossed out teasingly. Larsa turned, and as Penelo reached for the crystal shard, he remembered what it was she was addressing.

"Penelo don't!" he called out. She jerked her hand back as he did so, turning her head quickly, and rather sheepishly, toward him. He rushed past her, snatching up the crystal in the cloth and wrapping it once more.

"I-I'm sorry, I was just…" she began, but Larsa placed a hand of understanding on her shoulder.

"It's alright, you didn't know. But this is something I shan't allow you to hold for me, for it is far too dangerous an item to be held in such fragile hands." He smiled, and walked around to the top drawer of the wooden frame, and dropped it inside. He closed it with a snap, and smile up to her eyes. "I shan't be long." He told her before rejoining Gabranth. The two of them walked side by side, whispering among themselves, leaving Penelo to herself.

So Larsa was no better. Fragile hands? She thought that surely he of all would know that Penelo was a strong girl. But it appeared she was wrong, he was no different than Balthier. She kept the Manufacted Nethicite safe from harm, and she didn't even used it for her own purposes, so why was he so dismissive about this stone?

Her eyes wandered over to the drawer where he had placed the stone. It looked of ordinary Magicite, so it couldn't be too dangerous. She slipped behind the desk, and opened the drawer. She'd show him, just like she'd show Balthier that they were wrong. She took the cloth up in her own hands, and closed the drawer. She began to feel a slight bit of guilt washing over her, until she shook it off with one simple notion; She was a Sky Pirate, and this was what they did.

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"Sir Saphryn, we've intercepted a ship claiming to work under your command! One of them says her name is Lucyle." the young soldier reported. He bowed quickly and looked up to the addressed Saphryn. He couldn't believe that he was actually standing before THE Saphryn, head Knight of the table of Azores, and personal advisor to the royal family Margrace of Rozarria. The man was a legend, taken down an entire army of two hundred men single handedly when the fort walls had failed. The young soldier could only hope to see the man in battle at least once in his lifetime, and perhaps take his place in history and become the next Black Knight.

"Well then let them through the lower dock, and make sure that they are welcomed as proper guests should be on my cruiser." Saphryn told the man. He did not turn on the bridge to face the young fellow, but continued to gaze outward toward the Rozarrian Sea of trees. After a moment, he heard the clicking of Lucyle's heels, and turned his head slightly. "Welcome aboard The Maideen, the finest heavy cruiser that Rozarria's flourishing efforts have had the pride to unveil."

"So I see. I was worried that finding you would be difficult, yet I saw this hunk of metal from a hundred miles away." The woman remarked. He looked down to her arrogant face, thin and chiseled brows were furrowed, and she gave him the impression that she was waiting impatiently for something. Her hands always hovered over her twin scimitars sheathed at her hips. He wondered if she thought that he, of all people, wished her ill will?

"So where is the man of the hour?" Saphryn asked, stepping down from the narrow walkway that thrust out toward the sky. He approached her, never looking away from her avidly moving eyes. "I assume you brought him back to me, otherwise you would not be reporting, am I correct?"

"There was an incident." She told him, looking to the ground. Saphryn's face had immediately displayed his distaste of the news. Lucyle did not lift her eyes as Saphryn glared a fiery burning anger though her. "I could not apprehend him; he made off with the girl, and I barely escaped with my life."

"Your performance over these past few months has been exceedingly questionable. You've failed at all three tasks I set before this, and yet each time you still have the audacity to show your face?" he said through his furrowed brows.

"He was better than I thought. You did not tell me he would be such a difficult man to attain!" she said, raising her voice so that it echoed off of the halls of mythril.

"Tell me, who was it that saved you from that heard of blood-thirsty Archadian barbarians when they cut your wings off with their limb-dulled blades? Was it not I?" he asked her, now only ten feet from where she stood moving closer still; she held her head down in shame. "I hear there is no greater shame for an Aegyl than to lose her wings, yet did I not take you under _my_ wing, send you to the finest military academy in Rozarria – give you family and friend, and you cannot complete one simple task? To bring me _one_ man!?" he said, his voice raising in anger.

"I am sorry-"

"Look at me when I speak to you!" he yelled, bringing the back of his hand across her face with swift force. Lucyle slowly lifted her head, yet looked quickly up to his face, the anger flowing from his hand to her eyes.

"Forgive me," she said through gritted teeth. Saphryn looked before the fear and hate in her eyes, and saw the water. It flooded her eyes, her lids holding the tears as a reservoir. "I will not fail you again."

"Forgive _me_ child," he said as he took her into his arms, and held her, now realizing what he had done moments before. She slowly brought her arms up, clutching the shoulders of his armor, black as midnight. The tear fell onto his chest, and slid around the golden trim of the breastplate. She was the only daughter he had ever known, and he the only father she could remember. She couldn't bare living with the knowledge that she had failed him once, she could not fail him twice; she would not survive the shame.

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She felt like a runaway, now leaning back against a tree. The sand felt wonderfully cleansing underneath her feet, and between her toes. She wondered what everyone was thinking at this moment? She regretted taking the stone, which was a bad move on her part. After all, stealing for a living is one thing, but stealing from your own friends is another.

She laughed to herself as she pondered off everyone's thoughts, because she knew how true it all sounded. Vaan would be wondering where she had run off to in his airship, and Migelo was probably thinking she had been kidnapped again. She held the shard in her hand, watching it glint in the sunlight. How could Larsa have said such a thing to her face? At first, she wondered if he had just spoken too quickly to truly know what he had said, but then she knew that Larsa was never the type of person to speak before he thought out his words.

The small waves bouncing from the shore came back and sloshed against the bottom of the airship, as it sat in the shallow water. The sunlight was reflecting off in its glorious wings, dancing in the water, and touching the fish swimming by with a warm feeling that only it could give. After pocketing the stone, this had seemed the perfect place to run to. It was almost as if a voice had told her to come here, to the shores of the Phon Coast. Penelo had suddenly found herself so angry as of late, that she wondered if she was losing herself? Yet in the same sense, she had to wonder if she were to just subside her true feelings, would she lose out on the opportunity to gain a piece of her that she longed for?

She stood up and her anger and confusion and threw the shard out into the ocean. If Larsa ever wanted that stone back he would have to come get it himself. She knew that this was one of those actions that would be regretted later on, but she had to act out on her own instincts if she wanted to be whole again.

As the stone flipped and shined in the sun, soaring through the air, it pierced the water, sending up a small plash. However, as Penelo looked on, the splash never went down, falling back into the water. It remained a splash, as if frozen in time. Then she noticed that it was getting closer. As the oddity had finally drifted the beach, she ran to the edge of the water and knelt down to examine the strange occurrence. She poked her finger at it, finally running her finger down its side. It was ice. The splash had been instantly frozen into a mini iceberg. But that was impossible, especially in this sort of heat. Perched at the peak of the solid statue was the shimmering crystal, gazing into her mind. She felt an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach, and reached for the crystal.

Breaking it off of the tip of the ice, she held it in between her gloved hands, and took in into her fingers. Had the stone really stopped itself from becoming an item lost? Had it a will of its own? The whole thought of the idea was creepy, and she felt a terrible and odd fear in her gut. Whatever this crystal was, Larsa was right, it could have been dangerous. Yet in the same sense, perhaps it could be used for good?

She wondered if the stone would freeze anything it had come in contact with, at least anything living since clothing seemed unaffected. Yet she had the urge to touch its smooth surface, had an aching to feel it against her skin, almost as if a whisper in her head was ushering her to do so.

Penelo sat the shard in the sand, just shy of the water's touch, and slowly took off one of her gloves. She felt a knot in her chest swell as fear came over her. What if she did become a frozen statue like the water? This was a braze and foolish move, yet the whispers made her feel as though it meant her no harm. And so she reached out, and let one finger brush the face of the shard. It was chilled to the feel, and in an instant, all was a blank.

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"Do you suspect foul play?" Gabranth asked as Larsa looked through all of his drawers for the crystal shard. It was gone, and so was Penelo. But they had left her for only a short while. There were no signs or implications to suggest that Penelo had been kidnapped…again.

"No, only this note." Larsa informed the Judge Magister, holding up the small cut of parchment. In ink, quickly scrawled, it read; _I'll show you all just how __wrong__ you are._ The note had been so quickly scribbled that it could have belonged to anyone. However, Larsa had a sneaking suspicion that Penelo was not only fine, but that she may have just stolen away. But she would never steel from him, would she? He reprimanded himself for such a thought; of course she wouldn't try their friendship like that.

"So what should we do, my liege?" Larsa heard his guardian ask, though barely paying attention to him.

"There's naught we can do. I don't think Penelo was taken against her will…" he said. Larsa folded his arms, and pulled his chin into his fingers thoughtfully. Gabranth had thought through the situation and what his master had just told him.

"But then that would mean-"

"We won't make any assumptions about Penelo until we know the whole truth. Anyone could have just as easily broken into here after she were gone and taken the shard themselves." Larsa said. He knew it to be a lie; it was far from easy to break into the senate, nearly impossible.

"I will proceed by heading to Rabanastre as planned, we shan't keep lady Ashe waiting." Larsa told Gabranth, nodding his head in full confidence. "And as for you, I want you to leave right away for the task I've set ahead of you. Take the fastest steed of Chocobo in the kingdom, and make haste. She cannot be too far." He said. Gabranth nodded, and immediately turned heel to take his leave, for it was imperative that the cryst shard be found.

Larsa sighed, and sat in his plush chair, resting his chin upon his elbows. He wondered, though not too much over it, if this crystal had also been created by these beings that Basch had mentioned before, the Occuria? He doubted it, otherwise they would have probably made their vengeful presence know to them. However without the Nethicite, their gate as well as harness over man, they could no longer cross over into our realm, eternally stuck in their prison of solitude.

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The breeze was cool tonight, and welcoming at that. He could just lean back into his throne upon the bough of the tree, and gaze up to the stars. The moonlight was light, and made the top of the forest rest in a haze.

"You gaze in wonder more than you used to wonder at my gaze." She spoke unto him. Balthier closed his eyes, and shook his head.

"Not now, Fran. Not tonight." He said, sighing further against the body of the tree. Suddenly feeling her presence beside him, he turned his head away and tried to put her out of mind. "Just leave me be."

"Why did you let me die?" she spoke, her Viera accents just as sultry as it had always been. Balthier thought about the words she had just spoken, and remained silent for a moment. 'The Fran I knew would have never said that,' he thought.

"And yet you make me. Has guilt muddled your memory so?" she said. He was beginning to dislike this projection of his conscience, but when hadn't he? Why did it haunt him so?

"You're only a figment of my imagination, to which I am master to., and as master of such, I _command_ you to go away." He said.

"Then I will obey," she said, standing on the branch, and walking away from him toward the end. "All you have to do is forget my memory." She said before dropping off of the edge and into the darkness below. He hated that specter, he really did. Every time he had found a silent sanctuary, it had sought to find him. As Balthier stared down to the abyss from whence she came, he spotted something moving in the slight moonlight. As he watched this 'somebody' trudge along the forest trail, he noted the hair as platinum as the most polished of gold. It was Penelo.

Did the girl have disdain for Rabanastre these days? It seemed as though if she wasn't kidnapped, she just had to wander away. These were terrible habits for a girl as sweet as her to fall under. He let himself fall onto a few of the lower branches, and finally falling the last ten feet since there was nothing left to grab onto. He lifted himself after falling flat on his back, and dusting himself off.

"It's only been two days since I took you back to Rabanastre, and now you've already sought me out once more, in Rozarrian territory no doubt." He called out to the figure only feet away. "Me thinks you might be obsessing over me. Of course I don't blame you." He smirked. Penelo suddenly stopped, and turned to face him slowly. Her eyes were the first thing he had noticed; they glowed a light blue, and a faint haze remained around them, much like when his father had been taken over by Venat. There was no doubt that Penelo was not the one in control of her body, that much was certain.

"Ocurrian scum trying to work your way back into Ivalice? Well I have to inform you but your presence isn't welcome here." He said, pulling out his gun, and looking around the girl to see where the creature might appear.

"Do not confuse me for the Occuria, the stench of betrayal lies not with I; the servants cannot transcend unto a reality they did not create." This voice echoed. It interlaced itself with Penelo's and honed its ominous bellowing through his ears. This was no Occuria, it was something else. Something that made his very bones ache with each word.

"Well, Occuria you may not be, but that doesn't change the fact that you aren't welcome. So why don't you crawl back to whatever hole of a Giza hare you crawled out of." He warned the possessed body of his friend. This being seemed to dislike his stand on the ban. It lifted Penelo's arm, and held high a most familiar shimmering stone in its clutches. "Oh, Penelo, how did you get your hands on that?" he said as he felt a warm wind begin to pick up. All the wind seemed to blow toward the stone, or more accurately, the stone was sucking in all matter of energy about the forest. Mist began to flow from the soil, vaporizing and thickening in the air.

"Interrupt me not, foolish child, or die by the hands of your maker." It warned him. This mist, it was not suffocating as the Nethicite's grasp, but it felt pure. It welcomed him, and for a moment it seemed to be seductively intoxicating. Balthier suddenly heard the sound of pelting feet running toward him, a cry from afar. The cry of someone dying, he had heard this before. Snapping out of the pale blue effervescence, he looked around and saw no one. Of course not, he knew that scream, and should have know better, it was the mist's deceit. He quickly lifted the gun in his right hand, took aim and shot at the crystal shard. The bullet ricocheted off of the stone's face, still in one piece, but that was just enough to knock it out of Penelo's hand.

"Insolent Hume!" the voice spat, consuming Penelo's body in pure light. Balthier felt the heat of the power, the force was too much to contain and so it unleashed itself in every direction. Balthier felt himself faying, drifting backwards, and obviously far from where he was standing. After falling to the ground harshly, and rolling over just quickly enough to dodge the heavy trunk of a splintered tree, he lifted his head. In the distance, only Penelo stood. The thick forest of abundant trees around them was gone, now a radius of charred dirt. And as Balthier saw the glow in her eyes leave her head, she collapsed to the ground, and soon he was no better, face falling unconsciously to the ground.

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	3. Chapter 3: Inquisition

A/N: Well thanks for the positive reviews, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story thus far, but the best is yet to come! So hold on, and enjoy the next chaprter!

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He awoke to find himself in the aching cage he called his body. A searing pain was sparking like lightning behind his eyes, a headache he could do without. He sat up and stretched his shoulders, flexing the sore muscles and relaxing them as he took a long, heaving sigh. Looking around, he knew he was in some sort of holding cell, but he had to wonder where he was exactly.

Balthier then noticed that his clothing and belongings were folded neatly and lying across from him on a chest, used as a table. He looked down, and found himself draped in rags of clothing, hardly suitable to be worn. More likely stripped from the bodies of their other prisoners.

After standing, and fastening his usual attire he made his way to the sliding door, and found that it had opened itself when it sensed his presence. He had to admit, doors opening themselves was quite an accomplishment, so this place couldn't have been any _known_ prison. No, this must have been somewhere new, fresh; a test of some high-powered fool's triumphant design. But a prison that doesn't lock its cell doors, that made no sense whatsoever.

"Ah, you're awake sir," the guard outside of the holding cell said aloud, walking up to him and giving a slight bow.

"And where, may I inquire, am I waking?" Balthier asked. The guard stood straightly and held his sword close to his side.

"I was given strict orders to take you to the captain as soon as your presence be known." He said, before turning and walking away. Balthier rolled his eyes to portray his disliking of this place already. "Please, follow me." The man said through helm and accent. Rozarrian no doubt, Balthier wasn't surprised either; after all, he was in their territory. As they walked along, Balthier had begun to scale this ship in his mind by the corridors they were passing along. At first, he thought this to be a small cruiser, no bigger than Archades' fallen Carbuncle, now strewn across the Ozmone Plains. However, when the guard led him to an open lift, Balthier could truly see the grand scale of this place.

It was as if the Bahamut had been revived, only it wasn't the height that was breathtaking; when they had finally reached the top level, where the command platform was, he could see that the ship's length was as nothing he had ever seen. It could easily put a small kingdom's size to shame. He had to wonder where they would find enough sky stones to create even _one_ glossair ring for this behemoth.

"Welcome to my Airship, The Maideen." Balthier heard. He turned and looked upon the face the Black Knight he'd heard so much of. Stories of his stature tend to rotate very swiftly around Ivalice, so Balthier could see by the armor, and the way his eyes seemed to look through you, that this man could be no other. "I am Saphryn, commander of this newly commissioned marvel."

"So I see." Balthier said, eyeing the grandeur of the command center. Saphryn smirked, and patted Balthier on his shoulder. "The Margrace's have been spending their money as loosely as ever."

"I've not seen you since you were a child, Ffamran, but I'd recognize you anywhere; after all, you look just like your father when he was your age." Saphryn said. Balthier brushed the man's hand off of his shoulder and walked forward a few steps.

"People seem to like calling me by his name these days." Balthier said. He heard the knight's boots beat along as they made their way to his side.

"Well in my experience, you can run from your past, but it catches up to you still." Saphryn laughed. Balthier contorted his face in disdain. Then, his features dropped and his eyes widened slightly.

"Where's Penelo?" he asked.

"The girl? She rests, on the lower level. You are lucky that we where nearby, otherwise your friend may not have gotten you two to us in time." Saphryn said, waltzing past Balthier and toward an open view of the world. Balthier furrowed his brows and looked unto Saphryn's long cape, a shade of a deep wine.

"Friend, you say?" he inquired.

"Yes, she said that the ship was yours, but she was in league with you," Saphryn told him. "A Viera, with long white hair." He said. Balthier's mind had gone completely clear. "I believe she is still on board." He finished.

"Where?" Balthier asked so quickly that Saphryn had barely finished his previous statement. Saphryn called over two of his men, and instructed them to escort their 'guest' to the chamber holding Penelo. They nodded, and Balthier began to follow one of them, but Saphryn held the other soldier behind for a second more.

"Keep an eye on him," Saphryn told the young soldier. "Report any strange behavior."

The two guards led Balthier back to the lift, and seemed to change in nature. Where he had felt slightly welcome only moments ago, he now felt as though he were a prisoner once more, though it wasn't the first time he'd been in shackles. If things did turn for the worse, he knew how to lessen the binds wrought of iron.

The lift stopped after falling only three levels, where as Balthier had been held another twelve below. He wondered why they had held him so far below, but placed it out of mind as they began walking once more. One led him on, the other follow suit, and so after turning right at the first corridor, they reached the room they were looking for, the doors opening with a quick snap.

Penelo lay out on a long metal table, suspended by chains. Balthier saw the back of the tall and lithe figure of the aforementioned Viera by Penelo's side, and he rushed inside, stopping a few feet behind her.

"Fran," he spoke. She turned to face him, and all time seemed to stop as he had found that it was not Fran at all. Though she had long white hair, tied back and those piercing Vieran eyes, it was still not Fran. "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else." He said, dropping his hands to his side almost as in defeat.

"Yet you've forgotten me?" she said. He lifted his brow, and looked deep into her face, trying to place her. "It has been nearly a decade, but I would think that your heart would see me as you did years ago, Master Balthier."

"Sjra." He smiled. She returned the smile, and adjusted the glasses resting upon the ridge of her button nose. How could he have forgotten her? His father was so busy that sometimes he would send one of his lab assistants to look after his children. As one could imagine, they disliked the task, after all they were scientists not babysitters. However Sjra was the only one that made the children feel somewhat loved.

"I would ask you how you have been these past years, but I am certain you would like to see your friend." She said, stepping around the table to the other side. Balthier glanced down to her expressionless face, and pale visage. "Her vitals are normal, but as to when she will awaken is hard to say." Sjra began to tell him. Balthier was feeling a slightly sharp pain in the right side of his chest, but he was focusing too much on the poor girl's condition before him that he decided to place it out of mind. "Strong mist resides within her."

Balthier thought about what had happened. He nodded, remembering that as her figure became one of pure light, she had absorbed all of the mist that had flowed from the forest.

"If these mists stir within her for too long, they may be fatal." She told him. He looked up to her worried eyes, and she could see guilt in his. "We can extract the mist, but we must wait until we reach the city."

"Where are we headed?" he interrupted.

"The royal city of Rabanastre. Lord Saphryn was headed there to speak with the queen of Dalmasca when I intercepted their channels." Sjra told him, while placing her fingers on Penelo's chest, neck, and checking her eyes every now and then.

"How did you find us?" he couldn't help but ask. By what strange circumstances they had gotten there, but even stranger yet that she of all people would find the two.

"The village of my people resides within the Sefer-Raziel forest. We sensed a great presence disturbing the trees, and so I went to investigate. And so I found you, and then the girl, and this," she said, reaching into one of the pockets at her thigh, and retrieving the crystal shard. She saw his face tense slightly, and smiled. "Heed not, the magicks once residing have faded. It is a dead stone now." She said, tossing it to him. He caught it in his bare fist, and looked down at the once threatening shard. Not a lick of light shined within it now, it was just a mere stone now.

"So why weren't you banished from your village as every other Viera is?" he asked her as she walked around the table, and headed for the door. Balthier began to follow; feeling slightly eased now that he knew Penelo was safe. He found that due to her long legs, it was slightly harder to keep up. Usually Fran walked to his pace.

"In my village, every Viera is given a sabbatical when we reach a certain age." She explained, glad that he was still curious of the smallest details as when he was a child. She, Balthier, and the two young soldiers had reached the lift, and they began to head toward the top level. "Then should we still wish to return to the wood, we may do so."

"If only the other Viera villages were as open minded to Ivalice as you are. Running off, and coming back to open arms; a Viera should only be so lucky." Balthier said, then winced in pain as the sudden pain in his chest began to shriek for his attention once more. Sjra noticed, and was about to tend when suddenly the lift had stopped itself, and the lights had been replace by bright and ominous red warning lights.

The two guards were as oblivious as to what was going on as both Sjra and Balthier, but there was naught they could do but wait. They were in between floors, so the only thing they could do would be to crawl out of the lift, onto the current floor, and make their way by stair up to last two levels. As Balthier glanced over to Sjra, she had already read his mind, and the two immediately slipped under the railing, and jumped the seven-foot drop. They looked up to the two soldiers, but it didn't look as though they would be joining them.

As Balthier and Sjra walked down the long hall toward the staircase exit door, they noticed something odd before them. The ground before them was changing somehow. Sjra, ever the inquisitor, rushed to the spot and felt it with her hands.

"It is frozen." She said, looking back to the ground, and spotting inhuman eyes. She jumped back and away from them, and watched as the form of the girl she had examined moments ago transcended through the floor, as though she were a ghost. Balthier saw the familiar blue mist spilling from her eyes and knew now where the magicks in the crystal shard had gone.

"Do not interfere." Were the only words it spoke, looking directly into Balthier's eyes. It continued to lift her body upward, and then disappeared through the ceiling. Balthier and Sjra ran to the exit door, and ran up the two flights of stairs as fast as possible. Reaching the top level, and looking around to find their bearings, they headed for the command center.

There, they saw the being walking toward Saphryn, who was distancing himself from her at every step. Every soldier who had rushed to apprehend her had turned to ice upon touching her, falling into a shattered mass of shards. Sjra seemed disgusted at how many men were losing their lives by the second, but Balthier was already running toward the scene.

"That's enough!" Balthier yelled, bringing himself between Penelo and Saphryn. The being stopped in its steps, and looked Balthier in his eyes. He felt an eerie feeling, seeing Penelo as something threatening.

"You impede my path twice now." The voice hallowed. "Do you not fear for your life? Do you not fear the fate that these countless men have endured?"

"I fear for my life alright, but I know that you won't touch me. After all, you may be a supernatural being, but it's still Penelo's body, and I believe she can still hear me." He told the voice, standing firmer in his spot as it began to draw nearer. It lifted Penelo's hands toward him, and he wasn't ashamed to admit that he did swallow hard in fear.

"You can stop this, Penelo," he said, looking into those dreadful eyes, flooding mist. Then, her hands stopped, inches away from Balthier's arms. The mist left her eyes, and she blinked. He sighed in obvious relief, and smiled. "There, now was that so hard?"

"Balthier," Penelo said, smiling. "I'm so glad to see you." She told him. However everything had gone awry once more as the haze surrounded her eyes once more, and her arms reached for him once more. "I can't stop it!" she screamed, resisting. "I'm sorry," were the last words she could muster before she grabbed his arms.

Balthier dropped to his knees, his wrists in her clutches. His hands turned to ice, followed by his forearms, and then up to his shoulders. Suddenly, that sharp pain in his chest had returned, and the ice began to fade. His shoulders had returned to flesh, and then to his elbows. The being gripped tighter, trying to complete the task, but within seconds his arms were his once more.

"What manner of trickery is this, Hume!?" The being gasped. Balthier stood on his feet now, looking the being in its eyes. His arms seemed to be surrounded in less than opaque flames. He was surprised himself, but used the moment to his advantage and forced the being backwards. The flames faded, and he felt lightheaded, having no choice but to fall to the ground when his knees gave out from under him. He looked on, and Penelo's body seemed to be consumed in pure light once more. As the ship shook, he feared that if the mist were to unleash itself this time, Penelo might not survive it.

Balthier jumped to his feet, and ran to Penelo's light infused figure, and grasped it, closing her arms around her frame, and holding her close. He had hoped that if he could hold onto her, it would keep her intact. The light burned, it was pain beyond belief. It shot needles through his veins, and seared his skin like white-hot steel. But once the echoing screams of the voice had faded through the halls, the light faded, and Penelo fell limp in his burningly pained arms.

Her looked down to her face, and with what strength this struggle hadn't robbed him, brushed strands of hair from her face. Her eyes opened, and at first, when mist spewed forth, his chest tightened, and his heart stopped. But when the mist had drifted away, her eyes had returned, and she was Penelo once more.

"Always trying to be the hero, aren't you?" she smiled up into his face. He chuckled to himself, and smiled down at her.

"I'm the leading man."

Suddenly ten some-odd swords, pointing their edge at Balthier, surrounded them. He looked around to find the meaning of this, looking over to where Sjra stood. She, too, was being cornered.

"Take them to the lower holding cells. Separate them." Saphryn said, standing over Balthier. Balthier saw a familiar face standing behind the armor-clad knight. The woman in the Salikawood, the one with Ba'Gamnan and his crew. He felt his anger heighten when his face met her heel.

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Left hand-right foot, right hand-left foot. He had the hang of it, so long as he didn't look down, he would be fine. Vaan kept his eyes focused on the balcony, which was only three more stories higher, though after climbing the first seven, it felt like he still had thirty to go. He shoved his foot into a crevice in the structure, and rested the other on the balcony of the room he was outside of.

Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the grand sight of Dalmasca all the way to fort Nalbina. He watched the gyration of the people below, though they looked like tiny little Antlion larva from up here. Suddenly he heard voices and leaned away from the balcony so as not to be seen. Then, as he heard talking, he had no problem placing the voices.

"How can you just stand there and say you aren't concerned?" Larsa pled with her royal majesty. Ashe turned her back to him in thought. "She could be anywhere right now, maybe even another ice statue, and the stone with her."

"This stone's magicks seem to be as no other Ivalice has seen. History holds no record of it, and probably for good reason." Ashe said, mostly to herself almost forgetting Larsa was there. "Larsa let me ask you something."

"Anything." He said, resting his palm on the edge of the nearby table, glancing to the vase of fresh Galbana Lilies. She face his now, looking deep into his eyes. He himself had changed, yet his eyes remained, calm and understanding, tide and true.

"What would you do in my position?" she asked him, walking slightly past him, cupping the bud of one of the lilies in her palm. He noticed that the fragrance her wore lingered behind her, like a serpent's fragile trail, and pulled at his senses. It reminded him of the floral complaisance of the Golmore jungle. "Had you only received crown after stopping a tyrant from crushing your kingdom. Your people cannot trust you completely for the sole fact that they believed you dead, and for two years you did nothing to stop the empire's hands from clasping around their culture. Tell me…" she said, dropping her hands to the surface of the table, and letting them tighten into fists upon the smooth marble surface. "Would you risk the lives of your people to plunge deeper into another power struggle?"

Larsa could do naught but look to her fists. They were a tinge of red, and white where she held the strongest, her knuckles protruding in emotion. He laid a single hand on her shoulder, and gripped the fair skin, letting her know he understood.

"I believe my people would understand my decisions based on hope, even if those decisions turned the kingdom to ash and dust." He said. She looked away from his assuring gaze. How could he, a boy of only sixteen have such a notion of the world? She was Queen of Dalmasca for two full years, and yet still she questioned her position.

Suddenly there was a crash, and something, or rather someone, had burst through the balcony windows. Larsa immediately drew his sword, taking stance before the lady Ashelia to protect her. Ashe sidestepped the noble gesture to see past him, where they saw a familiar would-be Sky Pirate.

"Vaan?" Ashe said, stalking past Larsa and to his side. He looked up to her, only giving a sly, goofy grin. Larsa soon stood by Ashe's side, and reached out his hand to assist the blonde street urchin.

"There are better ways to spy, one method would be hiding within the room itself." Larsa laughed. Vaan nodded, dusting the glass pieces off of him and facing Ashe.

"I'm sorry, I just came to talk to you," he told her. She lifted her brow, since when did he have to sneak into the palace to speak to her? He had always been more than welcome here within these halls. "About Penelo." He finished.

"Have you seen her?" Larsa rushed in.

"Is she here in Rabanastre?" Ashe added.

"No, actually I haven't seen her for three days. She took off with my airship, and hasn't been back." He told the two. They slumped in defeat, hoping he had known of her whereabouts, and Vaan felt that he was missing something. Both Larsa and Ashe stood, lost in thought, when Vaan finally decided to interrupt them. "Wait, why are you two looking for her?"

"The situation is complicated." Ashe replied, not looking at him.

"I fear that involving more than only the necessary could only worsen our situation, you do understand?" Larsa explained. Vaan remained silent, but nodded, making his way past Larsa and Ashe to the audience chamber door.

"Well, if you do hear anything, let me know?" he added before leaving. They watched him slowly walk out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Larsa and Ashe looked to each other. They really hadn't meant to keep him ignorant of the happenings, but it was more his own good, and the good of their kingdoms. Larsa lifted his elbow, and Ashe took into her own, walking out of the room. They were off, arm in arm; she was to accompany him back to Archades to further look into this matter. The Red Rose, which was the queen's personal cruiser, was already waiting at hand to escort them to the senate palace.

As they stepped on board, Vaan took hold of one of the docking leashes, and climbed up the rope moments before take off. He crawled into one of the barge windows, slipping into the lower cabins. Did they really expect him to just sit around, waiting for something bad to happen to them or Penelo? If so they were wrong. They didn't know that over the past two years he'd become quite the apt thief and was well on his way to making his own name in the league of pirating.

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Now he knew for sure that these cells were, indeed, meant to hold captives. Fifteen levels below the command center, and well guarded so as not to cause the 'captain' any grief. Balthier leaned back against the cold steel wall and listened to the humming of the massive glossair rings below them. They're gargantuan size force their floor to keep a constant vibration working on their rooms, which was just fine with him, since it was more attention his back muscles had had in some time.

"Someone, please! Let us out!" he suddenly heard Penelo scream from the room behind him. He then heard one of the guards hit the door with something hard and reprimand her, telling her to keep quiet. "Balthier." She said to herself, so low that he almost couldn't hear it; but he did, and he felt a twinge of sorrow for the poor girl.

"I'm right here, don't worry. Already working on a way out." He answered her pleading call. Yet he lied, there was no way out, he had tried for a while now. She stood and rushed to the wall, knowing that he was there had given her a sense of safety. He had always come through, he had never disappointed.

"Ever the honorable noble, and ever the sly weasel." They heard Sjra said aloud. It seemed their rooms were all aligned, Balthier in the middle, Penelo to his left, and Sjra to his right. "Your reputation precedes you, and I must say that you were quite the valiant knight to protect the young lass as you did."

"Well what can I say, a lady in need has always touched my softer side." He replied. Penelo smiled, and leaned against the wall. She wondered if she sat there long enough, she might eventually feel his body heat. She didn't know who this other voice was, but she sounded a lot like Fran. It was almost comforting to feel that Fran and Balthier were there to protect her, but she knew that would never happen again. She knew Balthier would never admit it, but she could see that in his eyes, he felt guilty over her death. But why? She wanted to ask him exactly what happened, but she didn't want him to blame her for causing him more pain. "Well anyway, as soon as we get to Rabanastre, I'll get us out of here, just you wait." He told them.

"Then we may be waiting quite some time, for we are not headed toward Rabanastre. We never were." Sjra replied. Balthier furrowed his brows, and sat up, walking close to her wall.

"What do you mean we're not heading to Rabanastre? That's where the fool-headed Saphryn told us he was headed, wasn't it?" he asked her, getting furious.

"I imagine that was to keep you from immediately taking flight. I had not noticed since I was caring after the girl, but now that I've had time to feel it, I can sense that we have been heading north the entirety of our stay." Sjra told him. Balthier folded his arms, and twiddled his fingers under his chin in thought. This complicated things a bit, but no matter, he would still get them out the first opportunity he had.

"It definitely wanted something from him," he said to himself. Penelo knocked lightly on her wall to gain his attention. When she heard him step closer, she asked,

"When the crystal took me over, I couldn't see or hear anything other than what the thing was whispering. I think… I think Saphryn has another stone, like the one I took from Larsa."

"Ah, so that's where it fell into your hands." He though, leaning his head against the cold humming metal to hear her a little better.

"But that's all I can remember, other than hearing your voice through the mist." She told him. He nodded, and stood upright once more.

"This being wants whatever Saphryn has… Saphryn obviously wants you, for whatever reasons reside in his mind… T'would seem that mystery and trouble follow your very heels, Master Balthier." Sjra said, Balthier shaking his head to the very truth. He had no desire to go chasing yet another mystery, but now that it involved his friends, he couldn't just take flight and forget it. And to the bottom of these traces he was determined to get.


	4. Chapter 4: Red Regret Upon White Steel

He had traveled on for days now. Some steed indeed, he laughed. It was more of a hen than a Chocobo; the moment it saw the vultures, it turned tail, and took speed, leaving Basch to fend for himself. Walking such a distance in the freezing cold, especially in the fridged weather of the Paramina Rift, was beginning to wear on his muscles. The heavy Judge attire was not helping his case, however Lord Larsa had explained the importance of traveling by foot. Should he arrive by imperial airship, his welcome may be less than passive. It wasn't that Larsa hadn't made peace with the remaining residents of Mt. Ber-Omisace; in fact they praised the new young emperor in his endeavors. But the death of the Grand Kiltias at the hands of one of the empire's very own Judge Magisters was not easily forgotten.

Basch treaded on, easily handling beast after beast until he had finally reached the summit. Things hadn't changed much since last he had been here, two years ago. As he stepped cautiously, he took off his helm, and held it under his arm, passing by merchants and laborers. As he passed, people seemed to stop what they were doing and only stared as he walked by. He felt unease as he glanced around, and as the first drop of rain landed upon his breastplate, so too did the first stone.

"Go back to the Empire, you murdering bastards!" he heard. Some people were holding back the Bangaa who had cast the stone, and some were edging him on, picking up rocks themselves. Larsa had told him that he would meet with something unexpected upon arriving at Mt. Ber-Omisace; he couldn't say that this was exactly unexpected however. He felt a hard hit to the back of his head, and turned to face a child. Had these people really hated the empire that much? He dared not think of what would happen to his lord if he were to show his face around here.

"That is enough! Judge Gabranth serves Larsa Solidor now, no longer a hound to Vayne. So trouble him not, for he is welcome here." Basch heard, turning around, and laying them upon the face of an angel, visage of a friend, and mask of a ghost. He smiled, and realized that this was the unexpected 'something' of which Larsa spoke of so fondly. Wouldn't he be surprised to learn that he was correct in assuming such an apparition? "It has been far too long, captain… or should I say, Judge Magister?"

"Indeed it has."

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"So you say these passages elude you still?" She said, flicking through the pages of the journal. Ashe sat back into the seat, and crossed one leg over her knee. Larsa chose not to sit, yet paced. Every now and then there would be a slight uneasiness in the ship's flight, but it soon leveled itself once more, and he could hold in his nausea for a while longer.

"Yes, it really explains nothing about the stone itself, but simply references numerous inserts of fables, and tales that even I have heard as a child." Larsa explained while glancing out of the small windows to check their location. "I made sure that my servants missed not a word when I had them copy and scribe the journal."

"Al-Zed seems to call the crystal by a name, instead of an inanimate object. I've heard this name before, but I cannot place it." She said, tracing her finger over the name itself. The first letter, a serpent, was as mysterious as the rest of the name.

"Aye, and I regret that I cannot quite remember when I have heard this name either." He told her, sighing. He was troubled that they were of no more use to each other than they were at the moment being. "Perhaps if we were to ask Rojo, a scholar of the Empire's finest, and 13th descendant in a long line of historians for the emperors."

"Rojo the 13th? He was my father's tutor growing up." Ashe said.

"As he was mine, when Drace could teach me no more." Larsa said, smiling. He hadn't mentioned her name in some time. Ashe had never met the late Judge Magister, though he believed that the queen would find her charming. "If anyone would know something of this name, it would be him."

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First being shackled, and been being led down the steps like a hound, and being shoved with their partisans when not compliant; this whole affair had a terrible taste about it. Balthier glanced to Sjra; she held her head down, in deep thought apparently. He then glanced to Penelo, who was marveling at the grand spectra of the Rozarrian capitol, Strelitzia.

Even bound in chains, and having endured a hardship from the cryst shard that none of them understood, she still held the glint of wonder in her eyes. It put him at ease, that she could put their troubles out of mind to appreciate a foreign world. It was her gift, and hers alone.

As they walked through the lower city, many strangers passing by and giving the strangest of curious stares, they had finally reached the tall, and very spacious House de Margrace. The six guards that stood watch at the main entrance immediately moved aside when they saw the Black Knight Saphryn approaching. He addressed them not as he made his way past them and through the doors; he simply kept his eyes ahead of him, and brushed by them as if they did not exist. Penelo was still lost in wonder at the endless display of exotic architecture, and extravagant decorates.

Balthier followed the man in midnight metal, though he knew his way around this palace better than they had thought. Sjra seemed to worry not too much as they passed servants, and locked doors. As they turned through the maze, Balthier knew that this direction could only mean that the knight was taking them to Al-Zed.

"Men, hold them here, I wish to speak to the lord privately first." Saphryn told the soldiers with a wave of his hand. They nodded, and kept close watch on the three. Balthier thought that perhaps they could fight their way out, After all, there was only six soldiers, and about eighteen guards that they had passed along the way.

"What do you think is going to happen to us?" Penelo asked Balthier and Sjra, more or less whomever chose to answer her first.

"Well, from what I overheard, they've only arrested us under charges of assault. Lord Al-Zed is a reasonable man, and I'm sure that if you were to present that small artifact you carry, he will understand your situation." Sjra told her. Penelo nodded, feeling around for the cryst shard. It was gone. Panic aroused her face, and Sjra smirked. "If you're looking for the stone, your dashing hero holds it for you."

Balthier had begun to reach into his pockets when one of the guards shoved the spear into his back.

"Hands where we can see them." The guard spoke, Balthier nodded annoyingly and looked straight ahead, not wanting to give any more reason for the point to dig even deeper into his skin. Suddenly Saphryn appeared, and motioned his fingers for the three to come into Al-Zed's quarters. The soldiers began to follow them inside, but Saphryn held up his hand to stop them.

"I suppose this is a private club, eh?" Balthier snapped to the guard who had downcast him seconds earlier, giving the smuggest grin her could muster.

Once inside, Penelo began her idle wonderings again, and Sjra was looking rather mischevious; something was on her mind, but whether it was plan or theory, he could tell not.

"Ah, Saphryn, why are my guests in chains?" Al-Zed said, emerging from a private room in the corner. He was as chipper as always, and Balthier felt his disliking growing all the more.

"Forgive me, m'lord, but under the previous circumstances, it was too dangerous to let them walk freely." Saphryn said, giving a curt bow before shoving Penelo hard on her shoulder. She stumbled forward, and suddenly looked as though she were a Giza hare caught with a blade in her face, eyes wide and panicked look tensing her brow.

"I believe you have something that I want." Al-Zed told her, taking her chin into his palm. Balthier quickly reached into his pocket, and withdrew the cryst shard.

"This is what you want, no? Let her go, she's nothing to do with your scheme." He said tossing the lifeless stone to the man. Balthier was surprised when Al-Zed reached out with his bare hand, knowing full well its reputation, and clutching his fist around it.

"'Tis easy to see that the power has faded from this crystal, yes? But you're wrong, in fact the girl has every bit to do with our plans, and you should count yourself no less important." He told Balthier. "As for the Viera, you may set her free, sir knight." He informed Saphryn. He bowed to his master once more, and grasped Sjra's arm. She cast a knowing glance to Balthier, and he knew that she had something up her sleeve. Once the doors were shut, leaving the three of them alone again, Al-Zed began talking once more.

"I must admit, I had not expected you to take to bait so soon." He told Penelo, brushing her hair lightly. Penelo raised a single brow, while the other remained concerned.

"What do you mean?"

"Taking the crystal from the young emperor, I mean." He smirked. Both Balthier and Penelo were confused now.

"How could you have possibly known that I was going to take-"

"Many things were revealed to me, child." Al-Zed interrupted her. Balthier looked him over once, and then once more. There was an odd stench about the man, though he could not quite place it. However he had the same bone aching sensation as when the being possessing Penelo spoke to him in the forest.

"But it matters not how I attained the foresight, but that it did not lie." He said, looking at his own palm for a moment. "You can feel it, no? As she courses through your veins," he said, looking back to Penelo. "You can feel her taking over your very soul, can you not?" Penelo did not reply, but rubbed her arms as if to rid herself of some shiver. Al-Zed laughed and reached for her hand. He yanked the glove off of her right hand as slickly as possible, and flipped her palm over.

"See, you are marked as well." He said, running a thumb over the black symbol burned into her flesh. She stared at the mark disbelievingly; how could that have gotten there without her noticing. "And unless you stop resisting, she will consume you, heart and mind. But you should not be afraid, in fact you should feel blessed; you will be a Goddess among men soon enough." He said, and with that last line, he walked past them toward the door.

"Sit, make yourselves comfortable while I am away." He called back before waving his hand and closing the door behind him.

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Basch was sitting in a small room now, the front entrance only sheltered from the wind and rain by a wolf skin. The rain had soaked it however, forcing the wind to blow in the stench. Finally, a cup of some sort of tea was placed ever gently into his palm by nimble fingers.

"It is a mixture of Mumba leaves of this region, and Gyshal Green extract." She told him. So this is where she had been hiding, though he was more curious of how his master knew; more so than why she had chosen to hermit herself.

"Forgive me if I am impeding upon personal matters," Basch began, looking into the slumbering embers that stared back into his own eyes, "But I'm sure Balthier is lost without the aid of his renowned partner, so…"

"You mean to ask why I've not made myself known to him?" Fran stated for him. Basch looked around the stone floor of the hut, placing the words as he saw fit, and nodded in agreement. She smiled, the mysterious and sly grin of hers, and sighed. "I do not expect you to understand, but an explanation, I feel, you deserve in the least." Basch looked down into his cup of tea, and look a small sip, feeling the hair upon his neck curl as he tasted the aggravatingly potent aroma of the Gyshal Green.

"It is for his own safety rather than my own. He saw me die, though he did not se me fall at all. I saw my murderer, dark as night, thrust his sword within my body, though there was no man there." She said. The riddle made Basch give her the smallest look of confusion, and she looked away. "To put it so accurately, both Balthier and I foresaw my death. Apparently he seems to think that what he saw was reality, and he knows not that I fled."

"But why run away? Why not let him know that what he saw was not real at all?"

"This vision was given to us for a reason. I know not why, but so long as we are not together, I know that he will remain safe and unharmed." She finished. Basch could tell that he would be gathering no more explanation than that, and he accepted that, taking another sip of the strong, repulsing, and almost addicting tea.

"For what purpose does our young lord send you here?" Fran asked him, now standing from her seat on the floor before him and walking to the front entrance, peaking outside to see how fierce the rain fell at this moment. Basch sat his cup down before him, and waited for her to sit once more.

"We are in an urgent search for the young lass, Penelo. She has gone missing with an important item that may be dangerous to herself, as well as others." He informed the Viera. Fran did not look him in the eyes

"You speak of the crystal that turns men to barren ice?" she said. Basch was quickly beginning to feel that he was a bit more lost than his peers. Everyone seemed to know secrets and knowing, while he was simply sent to fetch and tell.

"Indeed, but how did you know?" he asked her. He lowered her head, and shook it in disbelief.

"I knew this moment would come. I have seen its workings when a man had discovered it." She told him. "Balthier and I had been trailing a small group of men, hoping that they would lead us to something valuable. As it turned out, we were trailing a small group of Rozarrian militants, led by brother to Al-Cid, and the Black Knight himself. Along the way they had taken a mother and child into custody so that the Margrace and Knight could rid their steeds.

"When they had discovered the stone, the Margrace was intent on finding out if it was indeed the crystal they sought, so he instructed the young boy to come, and take it from his hand, telling the child it was a gift." she said, trailing off. Basch's eyes had grown darker as well, for he had heard of the child's fate.

"And so the child was frozen, to be Al-Zed Margrace's own personal trophy." Basch spat these last words. Fran only confirmed what he had added, and continued.

"They put the mother to sword for bearing witness, and shattered the boy's remains to leave no evidence." She said. "Balthier and I, it was too late for us to stop them, but we had decided it best to put a stop to whatever plans they had for the shard."

"And so you stood against them?"

"Not quite, as we were about to, the crystal spilled forth a mist, as cold as death itself, and that is when…" she did not finish, nor did she need to.

"That is when you were given the vision of your fate." He finished the line for her. It seemed that the Margrace was a colder man than he had anticipated, hiding behind the guise of the befriending gesture of leaving this crystal shard with Larsa. "How did they know where to find such a stone in the first place? Where could they have even heard of such a stone?"

"The Margrace oft consulted a Grimoire. It is here that he gathered the name for the stone."

"Aye. I have heard this name from Lord Larsa, he read it in Al-Zed Margrace's personal journal."

"This name, stolen from fable, and tossed around nowadays without any care has much meaning indeed. But it should be feared more than it is I'm afraid, and I do believe the Margrace intends to be casting aside fear." Fran said, before standing and taking his empty cup away. Basch now sat silently, running everything through his mind. He could only hope that The Lord Larsa and the Lady Ashe were planning some way to delve deeper into this. As Fran re-entered the room, Basch stood, taking his helm from the ground and holding it underneath his arm once more.

"I have a request." He told her. She read his face, and turned away.

"I know what you may ask, and I must decline. I cannot come with you, no matter how badly I do wish to see the young Lord and the Queen."

"Then since you have turned down Lord Larsa's own words, I have a request of my own; Help me find Penelo." He asked her. Her looked at his reflection in the puddle by the door, and looked back up into his eyes. She may not be willing to make herself too involved, but she could not leave him on his own.

"I will do what I can."

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"It is said that spilling the blood of a Viera is in ill wish of the fates." Saphryn told his master as he wiped his sword of the thick and warm stain, crusting over as he spoke. He sheathed his long white blade in its place by his side, and turned to face his lord.

"She would have been too risky a factor to let go. Besides, you did just as I told them you would; you 'set her free', did you not?" Al-Zed said, back turned to Saphryn and flipping through the pages of the old relic of a book. Saphryn looked to the ground in disappointment. The bloodshed of the Viera had left an ill taste upon his lips, and no matter how me washed his sword, the blood's aroma still lingered.

"So what is my lord's next move?" he asked Al-Zed, waiting in salute stance for his master to reply.

"You will take The Maideen, and 'escort' the pirate to the summit of the Roda Volcano." Al-Zed informed the Black Knight, handing him the old book. "As for the location, the book will tell all."

"Am I to shed the blood of the creatures there as well?" Saphryn asked the Margrace. Al-Zed was silent for a brief time, and placed his hand to his chin, running his fingers down his goatee.

"I doubt the Feol Viera fools would stand in your way, nay, they wouldn't risk the extinction of their pitiful kind." He said. Saphryn bowed curtly as always, and turned to leave. Al-Zed watched him walk from his presence and grinned.

"As for the girl, I have special plans for her while you are whisking away at your task. Special plans, I do."


	5. Chapter 5: The Grimoire

She was frightened, to say the least. What would happen to them? She was worried for Balthier's life, as well as her own. Sjra, by the whim of nil luck, had been let go. But Penelo had no idea what would happen to the pirate. She felt that as long as she had this entity inside her, they would not harm her, but they had no reason not to threat Balthier's life. That's why she was doing everything in her power to fight off the guard when they were separating the two. It wasn't that she was afraid of what would become of her, but of the fact that she may never see Balthier again.

Balthier had a hold or her hand, and she held onto his fingers tightly. Two guards were pulling at Balthier's body, only one pulling at Penelo's. She kicked his shins furiously, and the guard finally called for assistance. Now a second guard was pulling at them, and she could feel that her grip was going to give way at any moment.

"Don't worry," he said, winking at her. She nodded, and reluctantly let go of his hand. She was then whisked away from his sight, out of the room. He stood there now, held by his arms by the two guards. They were about to take him off when Al-Zed's chamber doors opened with a quick and swift thud, and in ran Penelo. Balthier had to say that he was impressed that she had shaken the two off, but running back for him was a mistake. Then after she ran into the room, in walked the factor that made her escape possible.

"Why are my dear guests being treated as prisoners?" Al-Cid demanded. He snapped his fingers and waved his hand. The guards let Balthier go, taking the key to his restraints, and shucking the heavy iron binds. Penelo threw her arms around his neck, holding him tightly, the first time she had been able to in some time. She had forgotten how his scent, the slight smell of crisp leather and of course his own natural scent, seemed to calm her down even in the most hopeless of times. She had used this scent to make it through her worry about Vaan when they were rushed off to Nalbina, when he had given her his handkerchief. The guards bowed to Al-Cid, exchanged confused looks, and left the room, most likely to go find their master like dogs. "You must hurry, there is little I can do. Technically speaking, you two are still prisoners. Should my brother reach you, there is nothing I can do but hand you over."

"So you would have us run away then? A little disappearing act?" Balthier said, massaging his sore wrists as Penelo let go. Al-Cid grinned, and turned his back to leave the two to their game.

"If you two are recaptured, try not to mention my name, eh? These family feuds can be so…messy." He said as he shut the door. Penelo was about to make a run for it when Balthier grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"Best not to run right back into his grasp," he warned her. He began looking for any indication that they could escape from this room. There were no windows, and sliding walls were a little farfetched; but it never hurts to check, of course.

"Balthier, I hear someone coming." She said. Immediately he grabbed her and ran toward the door, where the footsteps were coming from. "What are you-" she began to ask, but he placed a hand up to her mouth, and held her close to him, as he leaned against the wall beside the door. Once the doors were pushed open with angered force by no other than Al-Zed, she understood why they stood by the door in the first place, for now Balthier had placed them _behind_ the door, out of view. She now knew why he was such a great thief. She thought about her own techniques, and compared them to his own. Maybe she did have a lot more to learn before she tried to make a living out of this business.

"Where are they!?" he bellowed. He turned to the two young and confused men behind him who had been watching Balthier moments before.

"Sir Al-Cid had come and taken them away. He said that they were his guests."

"Saphryn, take these two and retrieve the prisoners. _Do not_ come back until you do!" he told his right hand, now wielding the large white blade. "You can punish these two however you deem fit."

"They will be caught once more, my liege." Saphryn said before turning his back, cape drifting in his wake, and followed by the two worried young men. Al-Zed sat at his desk, and one of the guards closed the door behind them. Al-Zed rested his head in his hands, and then looked up quickly when he heard the door lock.

"There, now that we're finally alone, I think we should have a little chat." Balthier said, fixing his cuffs, noticing a small tear at his favorite shirt. "Of course if you think we should skip to the action, it's always been in my nature to make the first move." He said as Penelo tossed him a long and sharp rapier from the wall. Balthier waltzed up to the speechless Margrace and pounded the sword into the surface of the desk so that it stood.

"Suddenly he's not so chatty when we're not in chains." Penelo said, trying to act calm and collected, confident and witty, though inside she was still anxious.

"I think my partner here is right. You're all talk until your wolf is off chasing ghosts and the blade is pointed at you." Balthier smirked. "Now, tell me where my ship is."

"Held in my private docking quarters of the Strelitzia Aerodrome." Al-Zed said. He seemed somewhat sheepish now; Balthier had supposed that was due to the fact that he was probably no fighter, much like his younger brother.

"I knew that already." Balthier said, now taking a seat on the edge of the desk, and glaring at the eldest Margrace. He had a look of confusion upon his face, and contorted the ridge of his nose.

"Then why did you ask?"

"I had to know how honestly you'd answer my questions before we interrogate you. I believe an explanation is in order. After all, you don't keep an enchanting young lady in shackles without the reason being clear." He said, looking over to Penelo with those eyes. She blushed, and looked to Al-Zed, who only stared toward the chamber doors hoping that Saphryn would walk in. "He won't be coming; if you recall, you told him not to show his face until w were caught. My, haven't you gotten yourself into quite the position?"

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"Larsa, what did you hope to accomplish by bringing me here?" Ashe asked him as he pondered at his desk. He rubbed his temples, and strained over the journal. There had to be something inside these words that would make the ink bleed all of their secrets.

"In all honesty, there is naught you can do. No more than I, anyway," he told her, looking up to her.

"Then why-"

"Because I don't want to do this alone." He smiled. Since obsessing over this book for the past night, she found his smile welcoming, but wondered if it was displayed for slight distraction. "Besides, your kingdom is at stake as much as mine, but more importantly, I know you're just as worried about Penelo as I am." He said. She had to agree, Penelo had not left her mind. Ashe had wondered why Balthier had not shown up at Larsa's door yet. News traveled fast, and he seemed to be the king of attaining that which needed to be known. Perhaps he already knew, and was off searching for the girl himself?

"Where is Basch? I'm sure his duties as Judge Magister have not kept him busy this entire time." Ashe asked him. Larsa looked back up from his studies of the journal, and smiled once more.

"He's off looking for Fran." Larsa told the queen, immediately noting her shock.

"But you told me that Balthier himself said that she was dead."

"Yes, Al-Cid did say that Balthier told him of her demise, however… If she is still alive, then I know where she would reside, and this, I pray, is true." Larsa said. Ashe looked into his face, and saw no idle jesting there. "Two years ago, when we left Mt. Ber-Omisace, after Judge Bergen had slain the Grand Kiltias, Fran had confided in me a personal wish." He said, standing and walking to the clean and spotless windows of his office, gazing out unto the beautiful day.

"She said that when she was ready, she wanted to live out her last days on the Mount, saying that it may help her understand her reasons for… living beyond the wood." He said. Ashe looked down to her lap, where her hands rested, fingers intertwined. "I can only hope that my instincts are correct. If not, then perhaps I am just relying on wishful thinking, in denial of the death of a good friend."

"Wouldn't that be more rational a thought, my lord."

Ashe and Larsa turned to his chamber doors, where in walked the famed and awaited scholar. He carried in his hand, or rather claw, a thick spine book, looking ancient to say the least. Ashe gazed upon his features, he was of Rebe descent, his color as red as fire, and his mane redder still. He had a scare running over his left eye, which seemed to seal it shut.

"Rojo 13th, I am glad that you answered my call." Larsa said, shaking his former professor's paw. The elder Rebe bowed in return, and laid the book gently upon the desk. He walked around and sat in Larsa's chair, never minding permission, and permission he needed not. Ashe and Larsa stood in opposition, to say so literally, and stared as he absentmindedly thumbed through the book. Adjusting his spectacles, he gave a slight 'ah' then placed the book down in front of them.

"The name you see here is of a fairytale; a fable told long before my time." He began. "Long before this Ivalice had been given a name, men raged war upon each other. Of course this seems to be man's nature," he laughed, before continuing. "It would seem that there were superior beings that led man into obedience, walking the earth not as kings, but Gods."

"The Occuria." Ashe said. Larsa nodded to agree with her theory, but Rojo held up his hand and silenced her. She did not appreciate the gesture, but got the point.

"I'm afraid that the Occuria may have played the rolls of the gods for quite some time now, but it was not always as this. No, in this time, before the scions of darkness had been wrought, the Occuria were servants."

"Servants?" Larsa said. Rojo did not like being interrupted by emperor and queen alike, for he held a silencing paw up to Larsa as well. Larsa smiled shyly, while Ashe found his rude ways annoying.

"Indeed. These servants are mentioned in this fable, and apparently betrayed the primal gods, sealing them away for eternity, and taking their place as kings, to lead man out of his spiraling ways." Rojo said. He flipped the page, and there were pictures, old paintings of what the Gods were said to have looked like. "And it is here that your name be found. Goddess of darkness, who sprang full from chaos; Queen of ice, and mistress to the king of the gods himself. Your name, to be found in none of hist'ry's scribes; Shiva."

"Then it must be this book that all of the fleet's ships are named?" Larsa asked.

"Of course. Was it not in the good Doctor Cid's nature to think he was a god himself? Why not name your army after them." Rojo laughed. He slipped the glasses off of his nose, and snapped the book shut. "So now, my little king, why investigate such a dark turn in man's hist'ry?"

"Months ago, a crystal shard was discovered by Al-Zed Margrace. Magicite with a will of its own. Any man who set finger upon it was turned to ice. He brought it to me, as a sign of good faith, so that the crystal's entirety could not be completed. Perhaps that is why he named the stone after the goddess, then? Because of its properties?" Larsa told the old feline. Rojo rested jaw in palm, and tapped a long, and untrimmed nail on the wooded surface of the table.

"This crystal, may I see?" Rojo asked. Larsa looked down and away from his elder for a moment.

"Well, you see, the crystal was stolen a few days ago. We think we know who took the shard, but we know not where she be." He explained.

"So we've sent someone to seek out help." Ashe added. Rojo closed his eyes, absorbing everything they had just explained. It was hard to read the man, but he seemed calm about the affair.

"Then there is not much you can do but wait for Gabranth." Rojo told them. Ashe and Larsa looked at each other and then back to Rojo.

"How did you know it was the Judge Magister I've sent?" Larsa inquired. Rojo seemed to smile, amused at the easiness of their confusion, and smirked. He stood, slipping the glasses into the front pocket of his robes, and gathered up the book.

"The wind carries many secrets. Just a few moments ago, it brought me a letter from the Judge Magister requesting that I bring this specific book to you. He said that he would be returning shortly, and that you would decide the next move in your play before the day was through." Rojo told them, walking slowly past them. He began his path for the door when he turned slowly, looking into Larsa's eyes. "An old fool I may be, but even an old fool knows that this cryst should not be sought after, if your intent is to use it yourself."

"Rojo, I fear you misread me." Larsa laughed, and Rojo smiled. He made his leave, and left the two royal children to their deeds.

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"You are certain this will work?" He asked the nimble Viera as her fingers weaved the mist like a spider.

"Mist is the source of magicite's power. We Viera have long known the ways of mist, and so we do not need magicite to aid our workings," Fran explained, she didn't quite answer Basch's question, but he stood back from the edge of the ridge, and watched her work. She held her hands up into the air, and let the mist drift from her palm, and off into the wind's breeze. Then, she collapsed, Basch swiftly catching her into his arms. She had told him this would happen. Her plan, as she explained to him, was to leave her body, using the mist as her vessel. She could then use the mist from the land to see where Penelo had last set foot.

Fran told him that this had been practiced by Viera to become closer in mind and soul to the mother wood, but it was not practiced widely, for so many knew how to work the spell, but seldom knew how to return to their bodies. So, to have asked more accurately, he shouldn't have asked whether she was certain the spell would work or not. Instead, he should have asked if she knew how to return to him.

She looked so lifeless in his arms. Now, had Larsa seen her like this, he too would believe that Fran had passed. If it weren't for her breaths materializing in the cold weather, he would have thought that she had stopped breathing. As so he sat in that spot on the edge of the cliff, and held her there.

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	6. Chapter 6: The Shadow Risen

A/N: Okay after a two week hiatus, I'm back in business! This chapter won't be so long, but the point is the story progresses on, right? So here it is, Chapter 6 in the first part in the Crimson Tales Saga:D

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She flowed through time itself, as free as the weight of her worldly bounds had been cast aside. It was often this lusting taste of euphoria that lured the arrogant into the abyss for eternity. She had to be wary of its call, for even she feared that this promise of flight, one with continuity and force.

She drifted though the ethereal streams, thinking of Penelo, and _only_ Penelo. Is she thought of anything else, even for a moment's time, the mist may lead her astray, and she may be lost for all time in this aimless existence. She was feeling a strong response in the distance, but it was not Penelo she was feeling. This was something that seemed to be surrounding the frail girl's life. Her spirit seemed to be only a feint pulse, but it was there, no doubt.

Once Fran made contact, she would be able to get a location, or at the very least, she would know the girl was safe. This other life force surrounding Penelo's seemed to be passive, as Fran grew closer. As she came near, she felt the ice-cold presence growing more and more fierce. She wondered if it knew she was here, yet it didn't seem to mean her harm.

Fran brushed by Penelo, and as she did, the freezing entity chilled her very soul, and Fran immediately backed away. She brushed Penelo again, this time preparing herself for the icy welcome.

As soon as Fran had broken through the placenta of energy, a flood of Penelo's thoughts rang through her. It was hard to make sense of most of them, but there were a few she could distinctly feel enough to understand.

'Why does he care so much?'

'Why is he always saving me?'

'What is it that I feel toward him?'

'What's going to happen to us now?'

'When will the time come when this thing takes over, and I won't be "me" anymore?'

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"M'lord!" Basch's voice echoed as he rushed through the chamber doors, Larsa standing from behind his desk. Even Ashe could not be seated upon his arrival, joyful to say the least.

"What news do you bring?" Larsa asked his Judge as the man knelt on bended knee before him. He rose to full stature, and looked down into Larsa's eyes.

"Penelo is safe, though for how long, I cannot say." He told Larsa. Ashe made her way around his shoulder, and looked upon him alongside Larsa.

"How can you be so sure?" she asked. He smiled, and Larsa saw the glint of knowledge resting upon his eyes. His chest swelled, and he was exuberant to hear that their Viera companion remained among the living.

"Never mind that, where is she?" Larsa asked. Gabranth walked over to the large continental map sprawled behind Larsa's desk. He took out his blade, and reached to the far right corner, west of Archades, to the kingdom of Rozarria.

"You'll find her here, in the main city, Strelitzia." He said, sheathing his sword once more. "She is company, or rather captive, to Lord Al-Zed Margrace himself." He explained. Larsa's expression had made it very clear that he had not seen such news coming. After all, he trusted the Margrace's more than most.

"So then we commence a search and rescue?" Larsa asked his two companions, though it was more to confirm his own thoughts than to question theirs. Basch nodded in agreement, though Ashe could not be so complaisant.

"And then what? Once we've stormed the House de Margrace, what do we do?" she said, thrusting her hands about. "We would be sitting doves in a cage with no escape." She said. Both Basch and Larsa understood what she meant. After all, it would be like storming the senate palace, and anyone who attempted to harm the emperor would surely face the gallows; the same could be said for the sons of the Margrace name. "I have a rather different approach." She said.

"How is she?" Larsa asked Basch, momentarily ignoring Ashe's suggestion. His eyes were hopeful, and Basch could see the light of happiness in them. Yet he was about to knock the light out of them when Larsa heard what had happened to their Viera.

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"So, let's start with you telling us what this whole crystal business is about?" Balthier began, keeping a keen eye on the elder man. He was nervous, that was a given; however he knew better. The man had to be watched every moment, because the serpent always strikes the arrogant. Balthier was getting impatient with the man's silence, yet apparently he was the least annoyed in the room.

Penelo surprisingly stormed up behind the man, grabbed his ear and forced his head down to the table. Balthier jumped almost as hard as Al-Zed when they heard her fierce warning.

"Listen, you are alone in this room with two very dangerous individuals; both, might I remind you, you've double-crossed over night!" she told him, pushing his head further into the desk. Yet he didn't scream in pain, he just kept listening. "Now you are going to tell me what's inside of me or I'm going to have to force it out of you by the edge!"

Penelo quickly took hold of the rapiers hilt, and before Balthier could stop her, pushed the tip against Al-Zed's throat. The man had now definitely found himself in an awkward position; face pushed against the cold wooden desk, with a sword to his neck. It was here that he fell silent no more.

"Shiva!" he told her. Penelo lifted the blade slightly, yet still at his pulse, and stared down at him. "That is what possesses you. But only a fragment of her; more specifically, fragments of her memory."

"What exactly does that mean?" Balthier asked the man. Al-Zed motioned to sit upright, but Penelo pushed him back to the desk with the sword. However, Balthier lifted his brow, telling her to let the pitiful sight up. The corners of her lips tugged into a frown, but she did as he wished and pulled back the blade, but only a fraction of an inch. He couldn't help but think, 'what would Fran have to say about their sweet little angel becoming so scorned?' Al-Zed sat up, and immediately opened the top drawer as though his life depended on it. He pulled out a book, and tossed it to Balthier.

"And how, pray tell, did the Margrace get his hands on a copy of the Stellazzio Grimoire?"

"I don't think that's nearly as important as what will happen to the two of you if she doesn't get that sword away from my neck." Al-Zed said, now smiling. Balthier looked into his eyes and could see there was a change rising within the man. He was suddenly getting too cocky for his tastes, for only seconds before he was a scared little mouse. Balthier looked to Penelo, and reluctantly nodded. She dropped the sword to her side annoyingly, wondering what Balthier's approach would be to the threat. She was disliking it already.

"So tell us how to get this thing out of Penelo before we take our leave." Balthier told the man opposite him. Al-Zed lowered his head, his eyes waiting in shadow.

"I'm afraid the assimilation has already begun. There is no method to reverse the progress, sorry." the man said, laughing at his sarcastic humor with the word 'sorry'. Penelo's face dropped, and Balthier furrowed his brows. The man's arrogance was quickly getting irritating as quickly as it had shown up. Balthier quickly glanced at Penelo's gentle features, hoping to find consort when all he had found was disruption upon the glowing smile. Something was wrong; those eyes were looking down at the Margrace with the coldest gaze he had ever seen.

"Then if there is no way to reverse it," Penelo said, rushing up to the man with the sword gripped tightly. "Then there's no reason to keep you alive anymore!" she said, bringing up her arm, and striking down at him with a force so strong, that Balthier almost wasn't strong enough to stop the blow when he took hold of her wrist.

"What's gotten into you!?" he asked, curiosity, fear, and anger filling his face in intervals. Penelo blinked, realizing what she was about to do. She looked into Balthier's face, and her eyes seemed to swell with tears. This was obviously not good for the girl; he had to get her out of there as fast as possible.

He pulled the confused girl by her arm, and was about to lead her to the doors when they thrust themselves open. A guard flew into the room, flying the ten feet to the desk and smashing against it, falling into a crippled mass before them. Al-Zed stood from his seat, panicked. Balthier and Penelo looked to the door as well, wondering what they had to overcome _now_.

"Y-you! You're supposed to be dead!" Al-Zed said, pointing an accusing finger at the woman before them. Sjra smirked, and Balthier held firm hold of Penelo's arm. Penelo turned her head to the Margrace and contorted her face.

"I thought you said you let her go?" she asked. Sjra brushed by Penelo, and the girl felt a strange thickness about the air.

"It would appear that when he told the knight, Saphryn, to set me free, he meant only of my Ivalice bound vessel." she said. She stopped before Al-Zed, as he cowered further into his seat.

"Oh? I see now," Balthier said as he saw the stone held in her hand. He had to admit, he wasn't exactly on her side of things, but he was impressed that she could be so clever. "And what does it cost these days to bind a contract with a demon?"

"Not much; T'would surprise even you, Master Balthier, how understanding the Lucavi can be." Sjra said, winking at him. Before Penelo realized it, Sjra had already taken the sword from her, and was pointing it directly between Al-Zed's eyes. "But I did what I had to. To survive, and I intend to cut my justice out of his flesh, here and now."

"Well you do what you must, but we, I fear, must make our exit." he said, pulling Penelo with him as he ran for the doors, Stellazzio Grimoire tightly held in hand. Penelo felt her mind flooding with questions, when she felt something inside of her, as if touching her heart, and she drew in a breath, tasting the scents of the Golmore blooms as she did so.

"Fran," she whispered. She had felt her, there was no doubt.

"Look at them scurry like rats." Al-Zed said to Sjra as she pressed the blade into his head, just piercing his skin enough to let a thin trickle of blood flow. They were alone, and she had him exactly where he deserved to be.

"If you wish to fight me off, then do so; otherwise where is the satisfaction?" she laughed. He looked up to the Viera and sighed.

"Mortal injuries would do you no harm, would they? Not now that you've bonded with one of 'them'…" he said. He closed his eyes, and waiting for the coup de grâce. Sjra looked down upon the man, pitying him. Had he no will to live to fight off his murderer? She thrust her arm forward with the new found strength her co-inhabitant had given her. The blade sliced through his face, all the way to the hilt of the sword, and out of the back of his head. She let go of the sword, and turned to leave him to his painfully messy death.

"However," he called after her. She turned, alarmed, and obviously unbelievingly to watch him pull the blade out himself, and drop it to the ground. The wound had vanished almost immediately. "The hands of a demon would do no harm to a god like myself - er, rather a demi-god until it is complete."

"So the plot thickens," Sjra said to herself. She then saw a black shadow take to his side. Its stench of rotting death made her wince. "And just what being of legend might you be then?" she asked. The stone in her palm shook with fierce fear, and she tried to hold it tight as not to give them the pleasure to see it. The demon may have feared this god of old, but she did not. "If you've already become the god's hound, why then put the girl through all of this trouble?"

"I wouldn't waste such precious words on the dead," he told her, raising his hand, yet held it there, doing nothing hostile in nature toward her. "However," he continued, bemused with himself, "I would consider this your last request, and of course, I cannot deny a beautiful woman that."

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The library was so silent that Vaan would swear that any passer by could her his inner thoughts. He tried to steady his motions, crouching by the tall mammoth shelves, but the metal on his feet clinked and echoed through the darkness. The only light that could be found was the light of the full moon outside, flooding through the windows. He wanted to see it for himself; after all he couldn't 'see' anything listening to the conversation from behind the walls. This book might have the answers he needed to rescue Penelo, and so he had no choice but to _see_ it for himself.

He rounded the corner of the bookshelf he was behind, peering through the thick black frame. The historian, Rojo, he believed it was, had remained seated at his desk in the corner, overlooking the book. THE book. Just his luck, he thought, but Vaan needed to get that book from the old bag of bones quickly.

As he began to formulate a plan using his surroundings, the old Rebe stood tall in his flaming mane, and blew out his candle, leaving the book upon the wooden table and leaving the library through the rear exit. Vaan couldn't believe how easy the beast had made it for him. With the lobby completely deserted he need not crouch anymore.

Vaan strolled to the table where the book lie, the dark bound book was the only thing in his eye. He reached for the book when suddenly he found himself touching fur. He blinked a few times, and looked up to the emerald glow of the historian's eyes. Where on Ivalice had the Rebe come from?

"A thief will find no mercy from Archadia, and you will find no quarter with me!" The Rebe said, a fierce gaze upon his face. Vaan took a few steps back, still registering what had happened when he was tackled by a chair. The wooden seat forced him to sit there, and as he was about to stand up, he felt an invisible force hold him there. This must have been old magic the Rebe knew, not the elemental basics he had grown accustom to.

"Tell me boy, before I take your eyes for gazing upon the Stellazzio Grimoire, what interest does that book have for you?" The Rebe asked fiercely, towering over Vaan. Vaan looked up into those glowing green flames, and as he opened his mouth to say something, the Rebe took his face into his palm. "Ah, those eyes. I see fate lingering about them," he began.

"A young girl. With whom you share a bond with." he said, leaning in closer to study Vaan's eyes closer. "With whom you love."

"That's crazy - I'm not in love with Penelo!" Vaan detested and turned his eyes away; he had heard enough.

"Ah, Penelo, the young lass of whom lord Larsa and her majesty Ashelia spoke of. You, too, seek out this maiden?" he said, turning heel and pacing the marble floor. "So then I am to assume you are the boy, Vaan." he began to speak to no one but himself. Vaan felt the forces binding him dissipate and he stood quickly.

"Yeah, I'm a friend of Larsa and Ashe. Please, if you know something then tell me!" Vaan plead. The tall, and dark Rebe looked this boy from head to toe and thought deeply about what next to do.

"You want to know where the girl is?" he asked. Vaan nodded and leaned in hopefully. "Do you care for her?" he asked. Vaan didn't hesitate to reply by nodding even quicker than before. The Rebe sighed, looking disappointed. "Then I cannot let you have this book."

"What!?" Vaan said in disbelief.

"If you were just an ordinary thief, you could saunter away, tearing the pages as you skipped along and I would not oppose, but you, I'm afraid, I must; it is vital that you do not glance upon these sacred words, not yet."

"That makes no sense whatsoever! I'm the only one who can help her!" Vaan said. He reached into his vest, and withdrew the dagger Penelo used to keep at her side always. "That book will tell me where to find her, and you know it. I have to have it, and I'll cut you down if I have to…" he said, taking a crouching stance. The beast smiled, and folded his arms, waiting for Vaan to make the first move.


	7. Chapter 7: Revelations pt 1

A/N: Oookaaay, I apologize for the formatting problem on this chapter, I hadn't known, but thank you so much for the reviews, they're inspiring (plus I probably wouldn't have noticed the little chapter problem :\) So thank you to those who've read thus far, and more importantly those who review; they're the life blood of this story :)

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He thought immensly about where they were running. Up stairs, down stairs, up another set, and then down once more, left at the next corner, right at the next, left into the next hall, and make a right, Balcony, and the Aerodrome dock! He held Penelo's wrist tightly as she struggled to keep up, and dragged her into the wide open area of the docking space. The ceiling was an open area, and Penelo could see the faint orange mixing with lavender, meaning the sun was almost completely set. She hadn't really seen the stars for a few days, yet she was more than relieved to see them now. There, underneath the stardust, in its glorious stature stood the Strahl, his pride and joy, his only child if he ever knew one. It was shackled down by heavy chain, and he knew that he hadn't the equipment needed to unlock them. Before he could even begin to think of a solution, Penelo let out a frightened yelp and gripped his arm tightly.

"That's quite far enough, pirates." came a voice Balthier was already annoyed with. He heard the hard clicking of the high spikes on the back of her black leather boots, and the clinking metal as he unsheathed her Scimitars. "Now put the book gently on the ground, and put your hands up where I can see them." she told the two escapees. Balthier gave a slight sneer, and looking defeated he placed the book the ground slowly. Lucyle smirked as he obeyed, and Penelo stared at her with the greatest disdain. "Now, you there - girl - walk to me slowly, and keep your hands up"

Penelo looked to Balthier, and raised her brow, hoping he had a plan. He kept his eyes to the ground, and nudged his head toward this stranger. Penelo reluctantly held her head down and sighed, raising her hands and taking slow steps toward the woman. She was about seven feet away when there came heavy iron-clad footsteps down the hall from them. The woman turned her head to see The Black Knight, Saphryn, striding toward the scene. Each step fallen was another trembling echo in Penelo's mind. Something about his presence stirred something inside of her, and she felt as she did after Balthier had save her on the large cruiser earlier that day.

"Ah, so you've aprehended them after all. And not a moment too soon," Saphryn said, as the two young and incomprehensible guards from earlier ran toward the woman for assistance. "Well done, Lucyle. I see that as you promised, you are indeed taking your tasks more seriously." He smiled slightly, and if her head wasn't turned toward the man, any one of the onlookers may hae seen the slight flicker of the longing pride that had surface, before her eyes became cold once more. She had only just noticed the alarm on Saphryn's face, and the quickened paces of the two guards a moment before the blade in her right hand had been snatched away from her by invisible force. She turned her head, and watched the sword fling itself into the young girl's hand. To Lucyle's surprise, in that same instant, the girl was already in front of her, and about to pierce her torso. On quick reflexes, and by sheer luck, Lucyle had deflected the strike with the blade in her left fist.

Her mind was blank with shock at how swift this girl's sword was. Her arm wasn't even steady from the shock of the last blow when she saw the blade coming at her again. She swung as hard as she could to speedily parry this strike. She felt the heavy strain she placed on her shoulder muscles, for no living being's body was meant to react this quickly. It hurt, yes, but the adrenaline flowing through her wasn't about to let her die. She saw a quick slash coming from her right, and though she successfully swung in time to knock the blow off, the was nothing she could do to defend herself from the strike behind her. She didn't realize it at first, but when she felt the blade twist inside her, slicing her internal organs, her jaw clenched in pain, and her eyes felt as though there were tiny needles pricking from the inside.

Lucyle looked down, and saw the fierce tip of her own loyal companion protruding from her body. It was a strange feeling, seeing this from one's own body, but there was no time for panick when the young girl slashed the blade to the side, and severed her body in two. Not completely in two, for there was still a few inches of flesh attatched from behind the blade. As Lucyle's body was faling, her legs limp beneath her, she glanced at her surroundings. The guards were shaking horribly, afraid that they were about to meet the same fate. Rotating againts her will as she continued to fall, she could see the confused horror upon the sky pirate Balthier's face as he watched her hit the ground, atop of her lower body. He eyes only fell to the ground with the hit, looking at her legs. Beneath her, she could see that they were not naturally supposed to bend that way, but that was the last thing she was thinking as she lay her, struggling to breath. She rolled her head to the set of stairs at the entrance of the aerodrome, and looked at the mortified face of her father. His mouth hung open, and he stepped slowly toward her, but no words escaped. She regretted that she had failed him once again, though as she knew she wouldn't survive the guilt of failing him the next time, now she didn't have to. The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was the tear sliding down his face. She didn't understand it, he had never shed a tear through even the most fierce battle wound since she was a little girl, crying out for help as the gaggle of soldiers held her down and sawed roughly through the feathers. Why now? Lucyle died that moment, never getting the chance to find the answer.

Balthier stepped back as the blood spread around the hangar, almost touching him. He looked to the monster only feet before him, and its face was the angelic picturesque smile of Penelo. But it was a cold and empty smile, and her eyes were dark with the deed she had just done. Saphryn had withdrew the white blade and had charged toward her, however she did not move. She stood there, back to him, ignoring his piercing and haunting cry of anguish, and looked down at the blood stained blade. She took her free hand, and wiped across the shining metal until her palm was covered in crimson. As Saphryn was about to thrust the sword through Penelo's body, she spun in one swift motion, missing the sword by centimeters, and grabbed his face with the blood stained hand.

"You will give me what I need, or share the fate of this useless girl." she said, the ominous voice booming throughout the hangar. Balthier only watched, feeling helpless. This being semed to bring about a feeling that made him feel like a child. The being, Shiva, threw Saphryn back and hard against the ground. He staggered up to his feet, and held his sword up once more.

"I will never hand it over to one of you, especially to the whore of a fallen God!" he spat, wiping away his daughter's blood from his face. Penelo's face contorted into a cruel smirk, and she lifted the scimitar to eye level.

"Spoken like a true warrior, yet stated like a common pig." she said, taking one single step forward. "And so you will be sent to slaughter like this worthless sack of flesh at my feet." she finished, and with her second step she became a blur. Balthier's eye couldn't even beat her shadow to Saphryn's spot before he heard their sword's clash. She was too fast for hume reflexes, yet Saphryn seemed to be blocking strike after strike. She would be above him, and then behind him, then half a second later she would be thrusting before him. Yet his wrist flowed fluently and his technique made it possible to move inches at a time. But even with this quick thinking, he was still just a hume, and even he couldn't keep this up.

"Stop!" Balthier shouted, suddenly starting a run toward the scene. He bent low to take the dead woman's blade from her side, and tried to ignor the blood in its hilt as he brought it up to strike. Penelo's eyes looked shocked as he joined the fight, and now the being Shiva began to strike the both of them as vitally as it could. "Run!" he shouted to Saphryn. Balthier now understood how Saphryn's wrist must feel, since it was taking every hit with full force. It felt like blocking the strike of five Behemoths at once, and he thought the bones in his arms were going to shatter from each blow.

"You defend me!?" Saphryn shouted, giving a slight yelp of pain as he blocked a swift blow. "I do not need your pitty"

"You're mistaking pride for intelligence! Go now!" Balthier shouted, but he was knocked off his feet by Shiva as she thrust her palm into his chest. He thought his chest had caved in by the force of the hit, and he couldn't breathe. He stood, clutching his chest, and he gained his lungs back. He picked up his sword, and as he ran toward Shiva's assault on the knight, he felt a burning sensation in his chest, and his right shoulder. It was as though time slowed down, and he was suddenly more aware of the world. Shiva was moving much slower now, though it was a pace that was moveable by a living creature. It seemed to sense him coming, and immediately stopped her attack, staring at Balthier now.

"You..." it spoke, and stepped closer to Balthier. Suddenly her features had eased, and though she still looked greatly intimidating, it was clear that she was calm. "Is it you? Truly you?" she asked, as she stepped close to his body. Baltheir didn't know what to do but play along, and hope to mislead Shiva long enough to somehow save Penelo.

"Yes," he replied, "it is I." he said, trying to immitate her speach pattern. Shiva pressed herself to his body and held him tightly. Suddenly the blue mist he saw in the forest began to flow from Penelo's body. It drifted around the two, and then formed a shape behind her. From toe, to head, it was the form of a woman, blue, and draped in gold. A crown rested upon her forehead, below her silver hair. She was nude, though it seemed that the only anatomy she had was a tatoo that came from her navel and twisted up and around her body, her breasts, and her arms. Penelo fell limp in his arms, and he held her tightly so she wouldn't fall, but more to protect her from further harm.

This being, he could only assume to be Shiva itself, had spoken in a tongue he had never heard before, though it sounded more like a hundred whispers around his head than actual words. She waited for an answer, yet he had none to give. He began to panick, for he had Penelo, true, but if he didn't think quickly Shiva wouldn't take it lightly if she knew he had mislead her. He gripped Penelo tighter, and felt a sudden sensation that was new to him. It felt as though his skin was crawling off of his body, and expanding into the surrounding air. As he looked all about him, his body was releasing an orange mist, that seemed to be much more fluently calm than the cold blue mist that always encased Penelo.

The mist surrounded Shiva's form, and the being closed its eyes, and Baltheir would have sworn that she had swooned if she wasn't to terrifying. She seemed to whisper to the mist once more, their language a mystery yet it was distraction enough to escape. Balthier hoisted Penelo up into his arms, and tried to carry her limp body toward the Strahl, though he felt almost completely drained by now.  
Though one would think that things couldn't possibly get any more complicated than they were now, Balthier would have had to bite his tongue for thinking something as logical as that. He was grabbed by the shoulder and spun around so fast that he almost dropped Penelo, and was greeted with a most unexpected sight. Not unwelcome, but unexpected.

"Come, we must hurry!" the man said through his well mounted helm. Zargabaath held out his arms, and Balthier only eyed him suspiciously. "Give me the girl, you won't make it out if you keep this pace." he said. Balthier reluctantly handed her over; what if he was a hallucination? Why else would he of all people show up here? As Zargabaath took Penelo, Balthier heard more footsteps echoing about the hangar. He saw Basch in his Judge attire rushing into the hanger, followed by Larsa, Ashe and Al Cid. Saphryn was looking around wildly, as if he had just now noticed that Shiva was no longer attacking him.

They all looked to him strangely, and he coulnd't help but wonder why they were staring at him and not the blue demon in ecstacy feet away from them all. However, before he could say anything, the flaming mist shot back into his body, and it felt as though someone was jabbing him with knives all over his body. As he caught his breath, he glanced to Penelo's limp form, and then to Shiva. Her eyes open, now fully aware and as viscious as ever. Balthier had no idea what he was going to do unarmed, and how exactly did you fight an ethereal being anyway? suddenly, her form broke, and she returned to the mist she was, and all he could do was lunge forward, and get to Penelo before Shiva did.

"No!" He shouted, and Zargabaath turned in step. The mist had beaten him, serpentine and as swift as lightning, and flowed into her through her mouth, nose and eyes. Zargabaath looked down to the girl in his arms, and before he could ask if she was alright, he had become her next throne, a sturdy statue covered in ice, and she sat up in his arms triumphantly. No one said a word, perhaps because they were too shocked, or perhaps no one had noticed yet. Balthier had to end this. He would have resorted to killing this entity by now but this was Penelo, and there was no way to fight back without harming her.

"I understand now." she said to Balthier. He raised his brow, and stared directly into her eyes. "I will sever you from this world, free you from this prison, and together we will put Him together again, and Ivalice shall live by His grace once more." she said as she pushed herself off of Zargabaath. A sudden wind was rising, and Balthier didn't like the feeling at all. Larsa rushed toward her and was thrust back with the force of the wind surrounding Penelo.

"Penelo! Wait!" He called after her. And just as quickly as he had spoken her name, she was gone. She leapt into the sky and was gone, flown away just like that. Balthier only watcehd her figure disappear, feeling the wind leave with her. He had to stop her, that much was certain, but how was the question. So many deaths, and with no remorse there was no living thing in this Ivalice that was safe.

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"Dying is a slow process, boy; if you're going to strike me down, do it now. Otherwise, leave here with your life." The old Rebe said. Vaan was about to charge, when out of the darkness of the night sky, a bright blue light lit the entire library. He looked out of the windows to search the source out, and saw what looked like a shooting star hurtling toward them. In that instant, the library had gone form its calm and collected state to a flying frenzied explosion of wood, stone, and glass. Books incinerated, and pages flying, it was chaos incarnate. And through all of this, he heard a strange sound, as though a hundred voices whispering around his head.

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AN: Okay sorry it took me so long to upload this chapter - but I hope you enjoy it and will please review ;) and I will update soon!


	8. Chapter 8: Revelations pt 2

A/N: I went through and found the typos, but unfortunately I don't have a spell checker (usually good on that...) I use plain old word pad :\... Anyway thanx to those who reviewed and let me know!

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There was no to way see it coming. The monster was just too quick, too unpredictable. Even if he had had an entire day's warning, she was just too fast to stop. Bodies flew all around him, severed arms, and crushed metal of armor that had crumpled before the force of her glory in awe. Such sights to be seen, just as he had dreamed he'd see on the battlefield, and there, he would fearlessly wield his sword and slay the enemy before the world, revered by all as a hero, as it were. But Wedge was a fraid, very much so. His legs shook fiercely, and his taught belly convulsed. Though he could clearly see them supporting the weight of his sword, his arms tremored in the presence of her approach.

She looked harmless, this girl, and an innocence played around her face. She looked like an angel, harmony incarnate; Sin and Despair could vanish from the face of the world with one look into those eyes. An illusion, all of it. She had killed his captain, his friends... his brother, Biggs, lay at his feet. Half of him anyway, his upper torso stared up to him with eyes that begged forgiveness. Though his brother stared in his last painful moments of life, Wedge could not look at him. In his gut, he knew that if he glanced down, even if only a glimpse, it would mean it was real. He would be seeing the only person that was his foundation, and had kept him as sturdy as stone though their years of struggle and training.

She grew closer, every step echoed an ominous and vital battle hymn that played like the drums of death upon his soul, marking him. He gripped the handle of the blade, and dared not close his eyes. She was only inches from the point of the sword now, and she stopped in her spot. He would have struck, he knew he should have thrust forward, but he froze. He was too afraid, because he knew that if he did, it would be the last thing he would ever do.

"Unnecissary deaths... you creatures are a waste of the life He has granted you." she spoke, and with the very last word, the sword fell from his hands, and his bones shook in fierce vibration. She watched the sword fall to the ground, and then looked back up to him. At that moment, looking into the eyes of his death, he thought of one person, and one person only. Aerias. His wife, his lust, his beauty. His woman, his partner, his queen. His love. He closed his eyes, and he saw her long locks of warm chocolate brown hair, and her emerald green eyes. She glowed in her pink gown, the one she wore every day. It wasn't that she didn't have any other nice dresses, but she usually only wore those on special occasions to them. No, this dress was her pride and joy.

He remembered the day they had been walking through Strelitzia, and she pulled him over to the shop window. She gazed over a beautiful and valiantly riveting evening gown. However, with him only in small ranks, and she a mere flourist on the street corners, there was no possible way she would have it. And so he begged the owner that night to let him have it for as much as he could pay. He had gathered together his life's savings, including the first gil he stashed as a boy, which was overall well under less than half the price. And so he decided to take another approach. On their anniversary, he had presented to her a long, shabby box over their dinner of bread and meade. As she opened it with her gentle and nimble fingers, she cried. Although he could not buy her the real gown in its magnificence, he could at least try to make a simple one look as close as possible. To be honest it looked horrible, as if a pile of rags had been tossed together (not far from the actual method) and sagged awkwardly. Yet she wore it everyday for him, and though he had bought her many lavish dresses, a home, and even a small Chocobo to raise since his promotions, she still wore those scraps of pink rags for him

"Ah, love." he heard the devil in angelic form speak. "True love. I can see her in your thoughts." he opened his eyes, and looked back into those cold orbs that were lodged into the face on the girl. She made no strike toward him, or any threatening motions, so he eased his shoulders and they stood there for a moment in silence. "Why do you throw your life away so willingly for honor, when you could lay down your arms and live with her in submission?" she asked. He furrowed his brow, and didn't exactly know what to say. His terror of the images moments before remained, and he wasn't quite expecting a conversation with the woman who'd slain his entire troupe.

"I suppose," he began, thinking hard on his words, "I suppose I give my life willingly to protect hers." he said. "If I were to give in to a tyrant who wishes to enslave us all, I could never look her in those beautiful eyes again. It would be my fault that she is force to live in shame and disgust..." he said. "Yet if I die fighting for the grace of her freedom, I could die looking at those beautiful eyes... Though Aerias may be a flower girl, she is happy knowing that I fight for her honor." he finished, thinking this was the best way to answer her question. The being stared through him, thinking long and hard about his words, and then only hung her head.

"The same words, spanned eons apart from each other," she whispered. "Foolish words, hollowed of logic and empty of meaning, only teeming with emotion." she said, and he tilted his head to the side. She could call it meaningless all she wanted, he would live by that code all his life. "You do not deserve her." she said plainly, and looked up to his face. "And so I will release her from you." she said. It wasn't nearly as painful to die as he thought it would be. Though the swiftness of the ice cold steel had severed his limbs and pierced his heart in a matter of seconds, he faded knowing what the light and kindness in his wife's eyes looked like in the morning, and he could die in that solace.

Once the foolish little hume's eyes has closed, and his last breath escaped him, she stepped over his body, kicked an arm out of her way in disgust, and looked onward. There before her, safe in a glass encasing was her prison, shimmering and calling her back into its grasp. To think that it was so lightly guarded. She would be completely whole once more in a mere matter of seconds, and all would flow into motion just as it should, and she would find all of His missing pieces. It is important, above all else, to usher Him into the world once again. As she held out the girl's hand to grace the large crystal, she felt her light reaching out to her. It stood nearly as tall as the girl was, and it hissed and seethed with mist. Then at that moment, she smelled it; the thick and odious stench of death. She turned around and saw him standing there. He threw a body down before her, a Viera. Inside of her there was a great sense of sorrow over the animal's death, and she figured that her grip over the girl's conciousness must be slipping.

"Found the cryst already, have you?" he said, smirking as he stepped forward. She did not like this Margrace man, and had the girl's protector not stopped her swift strike, she would have killed him long before this. However, that stench, that odor, something about it was drawing forth from the back of her memories. He looked at the blank expression upon her features, and sighed in dissapointment. "You don't remember me?" he said. He began to advance, and she could think of nothing else to do but turn her attention to the crystal beneath her hand. She thrust her palm forward, and on contact, Penelo's body shook uncontrollably. Though the shard was long gone, with her touch, the cryst was complete, and now all of that light within the cryst had grown brighter than the sun. All that could be seen of the girl was a shadow in this vast void of light. When the light had faded, it seemed that all there was left was the girl, and the cryst, which had no light left within its grasp. The bodies of the dozen men had vanished, any and all traces gone.

As soon as Al-Zed stepped forward he jumped, throwing his arms up and over himself as the cryst fell, and shattered back into the hundreds of pieces it had once been. The girl collapsed upon these shards, and it appeared that the life had left her. Not one breath was drawn in, and her eyes were cold, and still; she was dead indeed, there was no mistaking that much, especially by he of all beings.  
Suddenly there was a fierce cold freezing sensation from behind, and he felt her there, trembling the very ground with each breath. The walls all about him began to frost over. Cold and dark ice was beginning to creep over the corpse of the blonde, and he turned, breaking his feet free from the ice freezing over his boots. It had been so long since he had seen her beautiful frame that he had forgotten how perfect her face was.

"Ah, how perfect is it that the first of us to be freed is the most perfect of us all?" he said. She opened her eyes, and pierced through him intensly, burning his very foundation of confidance.

"You..." she hissed, stepping toward him. He wearily stepped backward, stumbling slightly. "You're supposed to be banished from this realm." she said coldly, and she held her arm out where a long partisan had protruded.

"Ah, Thrym, the sacred blade of Shiva. Do you not think it is a bit too soon to withdraw such a fearsome force, especially against a lowly hume such as myslef?" Al-Zed said. She narrowed her eyes, and thrust the edge of the long spear against his throat.

"You are no hume... that stench... the stench of filth, and impurity; the stench of murder!" she said, and he nearly tripped over the foot of the dead girl in fear as he backed away. "And now I will vanquish you from existence in His name"

"Ah, but I can help you!" he pled. He stepped forward, and moved her spear out of his face with his finger, stepping closer. "You wish to set free your love, so that the two of you can search for His greatness together, no? But try as you might, you cannot sense his presence in this Ivalice..." he said. Her eyes drifted to the floor in thought, and he knew that he was right. "His situation is slightly different than ours. Though his cryst is shattered, only half of him was concealed. Half of him still walks this world... and I know where he is." he said.

"So you help me to find Ifrit, and the Lord? What do you gain in this? Your betrayal will not have been forgotten when He is revived..." she said, watching him as he circled her. He rubbed his fingers across the chin of his host, and smirked.

"I only ask that you help me by sensing my shards so that I may leave this fleshling's body... as for the Lord, I will prove myself to him through my own means, but I must first become complete, as you... and soon to be, Ifrit..." he stopped, and looked her up from toe to crown, and marveled. "You're still just as beautiful as ever," he offered. She finally looked up from the floor, and into his eyes, black as night. "The mere fact that you've helped me recover my body will never be mentioned to the Lord, I will take any and all punishment he gives." She remained silent for a brief moment, and then Thrym shot back up into her arm.

"Very well, you help me find Ifrit, and I will help you seize your shards." she said. "But I warn you, do not misconstrue my generosity for trust. I will be watching every move you make, and marke my words, Odin, if I sense any slight sign of treachery, I will put you to the blade and end you once and for all."

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"Is there absolutely no way to reverse this state?" Balthier asked, looking from Larsa, to Ashe, and finally to Basch. The three only looked defeated in the fact that they were unable to give him a positive answer to anything. He looked down to the frosted figure of the Judge Magister Zargabaath, and sighed, crossing his arms in the situation. "I suppose he's as good as dead then, isn't he"

"He can't be!" Basch spat suddenly, stepping toward his body in the small bench behind the cockpit of the Strahl. "He was a good man, noble in stature... surely he can't be."

"Think of the bright side; he'll make a very handsome spectacle to add to your garden at the palace." Balthier said to Larsa. No one acknowledged him other than Basch, who gave him the darkest glare any man could muster. It was a look of deep, and almost raw hatred at the statement, and Balthier shifted on his foot uncomfortably. "I knew this whole affair had trouble written all over it..." he said, glancing to the blood stained book on the opposite side. Covered in the bounty huntress' blood, he hadn't quite wanted to touch it yet.

"I suppose we will announce his death upon our arrival at the senate, and a ceremony in his memory will follow shortly..." Larsa said, though it looked as though he were talking to the wall opposite him, rather than anyone in the Strahl. Basch hung his head low in the shadows, and Balthier could slightly understand why the Judge Magister's death had effected him of all people. It was hard to find decent and honest people in the world, and Judge Zargabaath was as gallant as they came. To add to contrast, Archades was stocked full of the smug, and mug witted aristocracy that the world could do without.

"He was a good man," Ashe said, placing a hand on Basch's shoulder plate, and looked to Larsa. "And his death will not go in vain." Larsa said nothing, only looking down to the grating of the Strahl. She sat next to him on the bench that ran along the hall, and looked at Balthier's face, barely lit by the orange lights along the floor as he stood in the corner opposite of her. "Now, we have a few things to discuss."

"I think we both have information that would help clear things up..." Balthier said as he massaged the ridges of his brow to alieve the pressure of the aching headache. "The only question is who goes first?" he said, glancing to Basch. It was almost as if the man was being haunted by something, he kept averting Balthier's eyes. Maybe he knew something, perhaps something he shouldn't have... perhaps it had to do with the situation at hand.

"I think you should bring us to terms with what's been going on... did Penelo say anything about a shard?" Ashe asked. Balthier kept his eyes on Larsa, and wondered what ailed the young ruler. Ashe kept her hand on Larsa's, and squeezed for comfort.

"It's true, in case you're wondering," Balthier said directly to Larsa. "She did take the shard from you. She stole it and ran... most likely due to something you said." he said. Larsa couldn't look Balthier in the eyes, only contorted his face in the slight light.

"I can't believe you would say such a thing, Balthier!" Ashe said, standing quickly. "How can you be so cruel? What's gotten into you since we last saw you?" she demanded. He rolled his eyes, and shifted slightly in his spot. "Has the world truly made you so callous?"

"Ashe, stop." Larsa said suddenly. For the first time since they rushed in at the Margrace's private hangar, he looked Balthier in the eyes. "It is my fault... I... I said something to her that I shouldn't have..." he said. Balthier sighed, and nodded, closing his eyes in thought. For the next few minutes, there was only silence. Occasionally, Balthier would feel a cool drift of air from Zargabaath's frozen body, and for the first time, he felt afraid. There had been so many deaths... no telling how many more people had lost their lives since Penelo had vanished... no telling if Penelo was even alive. The thought of Penelo having to deal with that ruthless entity alone gave him an overwhelming feeling of guilt. She was too sweet to handle it, he knew. She might have tried to appear strong and fearless on the outside, but in those moments when she thought no one was looking, he could see that she was worried, or afraid, dreading what may come.

He understood exactly what she was feeling in those raw moments. When things became serious, and the battles heated up, everyone's tempo sped up. Their hearts were in the battle as much as their will to keep fighting. But although Penelo's heart was in the cause, her will to fight never took flight. Everyone else would be so far ahead of her, and she would be left to try and catch up, and she was afraid. Afraid of what she might see when she did. Who would be there, and even worse, who wouldn't? She might lose someone right before her very eyes, and those moments can never be taken back. Though Penelo never knew it, Balthier was afraid too, and he knew her more than she thought any of them did. And in that moment, for the first time in a long time, a grave had flickered in his eyes. He saw the tombstone, white marble in a long orchard of golden leaves, upon the smooth surface, a name etched in memory. His name, Balthier, born 684 - died 701.

"Penelo," Ashe said, finally breaking the silence. "What happened to her? Why would she touch Zargabaath with the stone, and... how... How did she suddenly take flight?" she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Was she possessed? Is there dark magicks afoot?"

"The stone is long gone. It lost its power." he said. Larsa looked up to him and nodded.

"Penelo... somehow the stone was drawn into her, wasn't it? So it wasn't her fault that he..." he said, trailing off. He shook his head, and sighed. "But that doesn't explain why she was acting so strange, unless what Ashe said was true, and she was somehow possessed by the Shiva shard." he said.

"Shiva shard? Then I suppose you aren't too far behind on the details." Balthier said, tapping his foot.

"That is what we decided to call it, based on Al-Zed's journal and his findings... a name taken from an old fairytale." Ashe said, running a hand through her sandy lockes, and glancing to Zargabaath's body once more. She suddenly had a light of realization spread across her face, and looked back to the sky captain. "What do you know of the stone? How did you know of the name when we were wandering around in the dark?" she asked him.

"I only found out the a few hours ago... but i've been dealing with this 'thing' inside of her for years... inside of me..." he said, talking to himself. When he found that the three of them were staring back in a lost trail of questions, and let out a heavy breath and drew in a well needed one. "That legend you mentioned is no fairytale out of some bard's imagination... Al-Zed didn't name the stone Shiva just because of what it can do, it IS Shiva." he told them. "Things are far more serious than any of us knew - how could we?"

"The actual Goddess of fable? Proposterous!" Ashe said, shaking her head for a moment. Larsa sat back and ran a few fingers across his forehead.

"But it does explain a lot... it puts so many pieces of the puzzle together." he said. "That means she wasn't Penelo by the time we found you, she was already taken over by this 'Shiva' when she did this to Zargabaath, and took flight"

"Shiva's nothing to take lightly... it's a cold blooded murderess without a second thought if you stand in its way." he said. Larsa stood up in alarm, and Balthier, Ashe, and Basch glanced immediately to his direction.

"If that's true, then that means trouble for us all!" he said, looking to Ashe. "If Penelo was there, then that could only mean that she was there for one thing, and one thing only..." he said. Ashe and Basch looked in panic and fear, and Balthier sensed that he was missing something. Seeing this, he looked Balthier in the eyes, and said quite simply; "Al-Zed had the rest of the cryst there."

"Should she find the rest of her shards..." Ashe trailed.

"It may very well mean the end for them all." Basch finished.

"They may very well be dead already." Ashe continued.

"Now you're all going to have to fill me in on whatever it is you know." Balthier demanded. They fell silent, looking to Larsa for an answer. He sighed, and rubbed his shoulder awkwardly. It was a strange motion for Larsa to look so vulnarable, and pale. Was it a trace of uncharacteristic fear? He had been acting very strange since they'd found him. Something was troubling him deeply, for the very mention of Penelo's name set off a chain of thoughts.

"This Shiva is nothing like we've ever seen. If you are sure that it is in fact Shiva possessing Penelo, then that means the legend is true, and according to the legend, she is one of the primordial Gods that shaped this world." Larsa said. Balthier raised his brow, and pondered.

"But I thought the Occuria-"

"The Occuria were mere imposters." Basch cut in. "They were created as servants, sentient beings that were meant only to function as slaves to the Gods"

"As the story goes," Larsa said, taking the reins of the conversation once more, "There were thirteen gods that shaped the world, and governed them..." he said, picking up the stained book from the bench, and thumbing through about halfway through. Dried and crusted blood flaked off if its surface and onto his white gloves and suit, but he didn't seem to care. He found the page he wanted, and began to read.

"The world was formed by the twelve children of the void, and each of them gave a different attribute to the creation. First, the brothers **Alexander** and **Garland**, masters of light, and chaos, formed that which makes up the core of the world, where fear and hope flow freely. Then **Gaius**, lord of the hearth and stone, gave the world its fertile form, so that its people could wander with no limitations. Then **Leviathan**, serpent of the blue, gave the world the water that provided a shelter for life to begin. **Valefrius**, wings of the air, gave the world wind so that the tides may usher life from its watery womb. **Sirena**, mistress of love, hope, and harmony breathed into the people the ability to 'exist' beyond their hollow and empty vessels. **Ifrit**, flames of purity and loyalty, purged the world into the flames of passion so that we may take ideals, **Shiva**, Ice of the freezing wit and wisdom, doused the flames and with this action we were given the ability to understand the philosophies of their blessings, **Ramus**, overseer of the skies, shot down his bolts of judgement to the rock and stone to give it shape, and used the currents of the waters to bring us the rain that raises our crops.

The brothers **Bahamut**, and **Ragnor**, the dragon beasts of their father, encircled the world to watch over the people and see to their needs. Upon their findings, they returned to the place of the Gods, and told their father, **Eden**, the creator and King over the ultimate element, the Void, that the people lived in despair. They were stuck in a spiraling quagmire because of their unending lives. Immortality proved too painful, when they waged war against eachother because of their ideals and philosophies. Bahamut believed that their father should take away their suffering, and grant them one last blessing. Ragnor, however, believed that the people did not deserve the gifts to think, and feel, and that Eden should just take away their existence completely. This caused a rift between the between the brothers, but Eden said that he would grant both their wishes. He created his thirteenth child, **Odin**, the governer of life and death, to take away their lives when the time came, and usher them into Eden's bosom.

Then, after he had taken immortality away from the people, he set out to create the Promised Paradise, a land where there was no pain, no suffering, and all would live by Eden's grace alone. But there, Eden's strangth and power had run out, and he collapsed, returning to the void from whence he came. He had told his children this would happen, and how they would raise him from the void once more when the time came. However, Ragnor felt that things were better with the death of Eden, still spurned from his father's judgement. This caused a war amongst Bahamut and Ragnor, and the children of Eden were forced to take sides. They were pitted against each other, and finally, when it appeared that Gaius was about to succeed in reviving his father, Odin, who had previously stated to swear his loyalty to Eden, had taken his sword Sleipnir, and thrust it through Gaius, taking his life and the hope of Eden's return.

Finally, the Occuria, with all of their being, used their power and their lives to seal all of the Gods into the stones of the earth's core. They knew this would not hold, for the Gods were powerful one thousand times over, and asked the remaining few Occuria who lived to shatter the stones, and scatter them around the earth. And so the rein of the God's ended there, their malice and raging war that had brought much death tho the world had vanished, along with the love and kindness that had breathed life into it."  
Larsa snapped the book shut, and closed his strained eyes, yearning for sleep. Now, with all the pieces put together, they stayed in silence and and no one looked to each other.

"So Shiva... she's the most powerful being on the face of Ivalice..." Ashe whispered.

"The only question is what she aims to accomplish?" Basch said, standing for the first time since the conversation started. "That can go either way depending on one thing; Did her alliegances lie with Bahamut, or with Ragnor"

"I'm guessing Ragnor, and she probably wants to bring him back to life..." Balthier said, sighing. "We don't know which gods and goddesses were on which side, but we can't allow any more of them to come back from this 'void'... the world's better off without them."

"So what do we do now?" Ashe said. No one had an answer, and no one had any clue. They were all wandering in the darkness that Shiva had left them in, and now, for the first time, they felt lost.

"Only one thing we can do." Balthier said. "We have to save Penelo. I'm sure we'll find the answers on the way, but she's our friend, and that makes her our first priority." he said, walking past them and into the pilot's seat. As they filed into the cockpit, Larsa was about to say something when they saw a flash of bright blue light, that looked like a comet blazing past. It shook the sturdy ship and screeched, gone as quickly as it had come.

"That came from the direction of Archades!" Basch said, gripping Larsa's shoulder.

"Then that's where we're headed. Hold on everyone!" Balthier said as he pulled back on the accalerator, and the ship pulled off the cliff it was perched on. They were heading into something far more dangerous, and far more deeper than any of them had imagined, but they trudged onward anyway. What drove them? Where did this courage, this bond between them all come from? Something inside of Balthier wanted to know, and as they flew on, they knew that they may not survive this one. But they had to do it, for their friends, for Ivalice, and for themselves.

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A/N: So there is Revelations pt. 2, and so now the real race for time begins, leading up to the most terrifying battle Ivalice has ever seen. Where will allegiances lie, and how many more lives will be lost? So now that you've read, REVIEW - at least in memory of Penelo... :'(


	9. Chapter 9: Lonely, Lonely, life anew

Time.

She walked the space, an empty void of black darkness, and read these words, stained pages. No, not stained, a stain is disdained, however marked. A mark can be both accepted and frowned upon. These marks, etched on remnants, slivers of life; The Book of Life, the story of her memories.

Touch.

She held her hand there, hovering above these statements, suddenly alien to her. She was blind, accepting what they told her. Now she could see, and she couldn't understand what any of it meant. Their messages are elusive, but one thing is certain; the phantoms inside these pages were beginning to win, beginning to draw her into the darkness around her.

Feeling.

As she began to hear these words in her head, they only make sense as the letters jumble into the puzzle. Sense, what logic can show her, so that she may understand the answers? But first, she needed nonsense, so that she may understand her questions. Who am I? Why am I the way I am? They are shadows, she cannot see them but they let her know that they are here with their constant rapping on the surface of her being. Her well-being. The very last stitch of her.

A vision.

Maybe she didn't need to understand her questions, as long as the 'whom' in question can answer them. Does that make sense? Before you use the answer that sense has given you, remember I said that nonsense is needed to understand a question, and that was indeed a question. Every blot of those letter had brought on your technical tinkering; teeming your mind with sense so that it seeps into your mouth like a vapor, was part of a question.

Help.

She could feel it all slipping away, she couldn't find the nonsense she needed; I couldn't find this illogical world that may solve this puzzle; configure her question into a format that sense and logic can equate. Though she searched, she couldn't find what it is she needed. Nowhere inside this layer, but perhaps on another? Her memories? They can be useful, though hardly of use to her. But wait.

A memory?

The sight of this memory is a cliché in itself, though she found herself curious. This seems to be one she hadn't laid eyes upon in some time. It can only stare, though she stepped through it. Suddenly, she only sees more of the never ending darkness. It wasn't there at all, an empty shell. A vessel for a forgotten memory. She could only see traces of it left. Trying to pull its scattered being together, it cannot, and slumps like a heavy balloon of water. What a pitiful sight for such an important fragment. She was hit on the back of her head with another thought. She realized that some memories were slipping from her. Though these planes she wandered through, these layers, are fairly stable, her memories are the foundation. Without her memories, who am I? What's left of me? And what would be there to tie what is left of me?

Nonsense.

No one has simply ceased to exist without memories. It suddenly sounds so convincing, even to herself, as she stands in the heart of this being. She could hear its pulse, the beating of its mind and she knew that it knew she was there. This 'being' was supposedly her. Yet she stood inside of it. Nonsense, our dignity is flaunted for so little, but it is the very last stitch of us. And so she had found it; Nonsense.

Though now that she held nonsense in her grasp, could hold it as her sword and shield, she couldn't quite remember her question. Was this the end then? Was this death? To wander eternity through oozing black until the darkness swallows you whole, slipping into nothingness? Suddenly she sees a face. His face. He appears familiar, and she thinks she knows who he is, though she does not know what he is. It was seeing him in a way that she had never observed, and it made him a man she hardly knew, yet knew more than any other. He was hope incarnate. That last stitch of hope remaining breathed her back to life.

Life.

Not life per say, for she is still among the death, wandering through nothing, inexistence, but she was there. She had her question, and she understand every word. And as she read these flimsy slabs of someone's memoirs, she knew that they themselves must have found their light far, far deeper than she had dived. She was lucky enough to only scratch the surface of her being, and the shadows had vanished. But she found herself wanting to plunge deeper, even if that meant facing these fears once again. Perhaps even darker fears.

A Stitch more.

'The greatest privilege of life is to be yourself', this voice tells her. She understands it now, and she can move through the continuous barriers called moments knowing this: Even though she may never meet this voice, and even though she may never know it, she could hear it. With all her being, she could hear it, and that was what matter; that was enough. Because his thoughts have projected a fragment of his being into her, and it ties her together along with all the others. And it is in them that her soul lies, and it is in her that it lives on.

"So now you understand Who you were," Penelo heard, "Who you are," she turned in the darkness, and saw a figure of light, "And what you will become."

"Fran..." Penelo said and she stepped toward the figure of light, finally seeing her Viera features through the abyss. "What is this place?"

"You know now, my answer would be of no use to you." Fran said, as she looked Penelo over.

"So it's true then... this is death." Penelo said, and she dropped low, grasping her knees to her chest. "If you're here too, then..." she said, and in this moment her voice had lost all confidence in the world.

"True, I am no longer of the living, but I am not among the dead, as you are." Fran said. "I am one with the flow of the mist, weaving in and out of this realm and that of the living."

"It's funny," Penelo interrupted, though Fran showed no irritance. "I felt you before, and not long afterwards, here I am." she said, giving a slight laugh. She then thought intensly, and looked up to Fran's lithe form. "What's going to happen to me?"

"I cannot say. No one knows exactly what awaits beyond this darkness. Perhaps there is nothing beyond this darkness?" Fran told her, and smiled. "But you and I will walk the path together." she said, drifting closer to Penelo's shaking spirit. "No fear, and no more tears, yes?" Fran said. Penelo nodded, and stood tall in this black space once more. She was terrifyed, and she wanted to shake the regrets writhing within her before stepping strongly with Fran toward fate.

"I only wish I told him... told them all, how I..." Penelo began, and Fran suddenly took her into a tight embrace.

"We always knew how you felt about each of us..." she said, and Penelo's eyes drifted, feeling the warmth in the light of Fran's embrace. "It goes without saying, but I think I should tell you that we feel the same way." she said, and then just as Penelo was bringing her arms up to return Fran's hold, the light was gone and she could see fran nowhere. She panicked, looking in every direction.

"Fran? Fran!" Penelo ran, calling out her name. She ran, and ran, but there was no answer. Only the cold, dark feeling she felt being left in this world of sorrow and dissipation. She finally dropped to her knees, and held herself in the cold. "I can't be alone... I don't want to be alone... I won't make it if I'm all alone..." she cried out into the far reaching hollow. Suddenly there was a pressure all about her, and she could feel the darkness closing in around her entire body. It was freezing, and tingling to the touch, like needles penetrating the body. It felt perverse, and she wished that it would go away but it didn't, it only crept deeper. Finally, the darkness swallowed her whole, and she thought that this was the end. If it was, then she wanted her last thoughts to be of her friends, of happy memories... of her parents...

"Penelo, I am taking you to the realm of light," Fran's voice echoed through her thoughts. Penelo's hope swelled and she was relieved to know that Fran was still there. "However, this will be the last thing I can do to help you... once you are there, you will know what to do."

"Fran, what do you mean that this will be the last thing you can do for me?" Penelo asked, as a warmth spread throughout her.

"Taking you there will be the last thing I do... I do not have the strangth to get us both there, but I can give you your existence again in exchange for mine. Do you understand?"

"Fran..." Penelo said, knowing full well what she meant, yet understanding none of it. "Fran don't!" she tried to scream, but her voice was lost when she was pulled from the thick oily realm of death into the realm of light. It filled her lungs, and she caught her breath anew.

"Penelo," Fran's voice called out, though it seemed so far away. "I want you to tell him something for me... something he needs to know. I want you to tell him those words you heard, in the darkness... Will you do this for me?" she heard. She nodded, though she wondered if Fran could even see her anymore. Along with the feeling of comfort and safety, Fran had gone, leaving Penelo here, in this strange world. How was she supposed to know what to do? How could she reverse death by herself? With Fran it seemed possible, because Fran made anything seem possible, even if she was as skeptical as the rest of them. But now that she stood here, surrounded by light, she had no idea what to do with herself.

She looked down to the ground beneath her feet, and saw that it wasn't light, but stone. White stone, that seemed to form a long and wide bridge, stretching far to her left and right; it seemed that she was right in the middle. On the far end of either side of the bridge, it looked as though the bridge connected two circular gardens, with white buildings protruding from the thick trees. Clouds surrounded her, and there seemed to be floating pillars and monuments drifting through them. She realized now where she was, and she wondered why Fran would bring her here of all places? City of the ancients, Kingdom of the forgotten; The tomb of the Occuria.

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The place was demolished beyond sight. No one could actually step inside the crater, for there were no floors, so they hovered just outside the 39th floor of the sanate palace, peering into the smoldering remains of the library. Through the Strahl, they flashed the searchlight, and gazed in disbelief. The survivors who were lucky enough to have their lives still were being carried up to the roof by crane by the rescue teams. However there were more bodies than survivors, so in a grim way, it made their job easier.

As Larsa looked alongside Balthier, a young woman in her early twenty's had just been loaded onto the wire-suspended stretcher. She looked at him, and he could do nothing but stare in return. He had never seen her around before, though that was irrelevant at this moment, for it looked as though she was longing for something as she stared at him. Her lips moved, and she said something to him, though he couldn't hear her, and she was a bit too far to read her lips. The stratcher suddenly jerked, and she was pulled out of the rubble. He winced in pitty, as she had one leg, and even that was a slumping sack of flesh and shattered bone, as it slopped across the stone and wood, leaving a red trail beckoning him to follow. He could only imagine how much pain she was in at that moment.

"What could have happened here?" Ashe said to herself. She twiddled her fingers as Basch had noticed she had become accustomed to whenever she had something was on her mind that she did not want anyone else to know. He watched her in the darkness of the scene, standing behind Balthier's seat and looking beautifully elegant even in fear. She was almost aesthetic to his eyes, almost calming to his nerves.

Each of them seemed to have their own reason to press on, but not one of them seemed to want to share. It was like they all had their own secret that plagued them, yet it was the same secret in its differences. The only question was when each secret would be revealed, and would it be useful or useless? Too soon, or too late? Basch was still pondering over his own, his guilt and shadows welling up inside of him. Now that he thought back on it, it seemed like such a foolish thing to do, letting her go like that.

There, on the high ridge of the cliffes of Mt. Bur-Omisace, he waited in the rain in near darkness. His armor would rust, and his sword would crumble from it, but he cared not. He held Fran's deathly slumbering frame close and waited. For half a day, he sat there, his muscles aching and his bones waning, but he dare not let her go. As he stared down all about him from the Paramina Rift to the far reaches of the land, his heart fluttered as he felt Vieran eyes looking into his face. She smiled slightly at the stern look on his face, seeing that he was so concerned for her well being. It was a comforting feeling that she had grown fond of, and being away from her only partner had far from deadened the yearning, but strengthened it.

"I was worried that you may never return to me," Basch began as she leaned her head into the crook of his neck. She sighed, and felt whole once again, back into her limbs. It was strange, after feeling her so still for hours, feeling her move beneath him. "Were you able to find her?"

"Yes... She is safe. She is with Balthier, waiting in Rozarria." she told him quite plainly. He furrowed his brows, and opened his mouth to speak, but she already knew what questions would escape his lips; why is she in Rozarria, why with Balthier, did he take the shard... the least important questions in the grand scheme of the world. "Do not waste the precious time you have, you must go to Larsa and tell him of what you've learned."

"Please, return with me to Archades." he plead, but she only shook her head.

"I cannot... though I ran from my fate shown to me, it seems that the same end is innevitable." she said. He didn't understand, and she had expected this. She sat up form his hold, and he only watched her. She stood into the strong wind of the storm, and held out her hand, where a silver mist had gathered in the palm of her hand. Basch stood quickly, and she held a finger up to his bewildered expression. "Take me with you, back to Archades."

"What are you-"

"Balthier cannot protect Penelo alone. She needs both of us to stay by her side."

"This is madness, you've returned once but what are the odds you'll be able to find your way again?"

"I will return with the mist and stay by her side... bring my body with you back to Archades so that should something happen to  
Penelo, Balthier will have a chance to say his part." she told him. She turned her head toward her hand once more, before he had a chance to protest, and with a single breath, she collapsed, and the whisp of mist flew into the wind once more. He picked up her body, and carried her in his arms to begin his journey back to Archades by Chocobo.

Now, he felt that he should have said more. It was foolish to just let her follow through with something so dangerous the first time, but to let her follow suit twice made him the biggest dunce in the face of Ivalice. Now that he knew what shadow loomed over Penelo, he figured Fran must have known. She knew that Penelo couldn't fight this ethereal entity alone. Perhaps Fran had planned a way to fight it within Penelo? Now, he looked to Balthier, and he prayed that Fran had returned to her body, for if Basch had brought him to a cold and silent shell, he feared he may not survive the shame.

Basch thought that Larsa's secret most likely had something to with Penelo, and a a feeling of guilt for not being able to come to her rescue sooner; something of the like. Balthier's was probably on the same track, though there seemed to be something much deeper to his gazing brow. Yet the lady Ashe, hers was a complete mystery. What was it that she thought of so often? What haunted her thoughts to upset her so often? Was it really simply Penelo, or was there something more? Something far deeper than she was willing to reveal to anyone else, he had to wonder.

"There!" Larsa said, pointing something out in the darkness of the wreckage. Baltheir rotated the light to shine on the spot, and they saw a flash of flaming red mane protruding from the crushed stone. "Rojo!" he said. Balthier grasped the mic and shouted to the rescue team above that they'd found another body. The question was whether or not he was still alive. With rope, two of the workers had lowered themselces to remove the rock and debris off of the victim. As they removed boulder from boulder, they saw that someone else was underneath him. The two men called down for the stretcher, and as it lowered, Larsa, Ashe, and Basch waited on edge to see if the Rebe was alive, though Balthier had never met the man, so he felt indifferently about it, but that isn't to say that he didn't feel any sympathy toward him.

The Rebe, Rojo apparently, had been placed limply on the stretcher, and pulled slowly up to the roof. As the shadows had moved from his spot, all eyes laid upon Vaan's limp and battered form. Confusion had fallen upon them all, that went without saying, but Balthier noticed somethig much quicker than the rest of them. Vaan was cluthing something to his chest, something that looked all too familiar, for its brother sat idly behind them in the Strahl. Balthier could clearly see his hand tighten its grip when the workers tried to take it from him; a possitive sign of life, though to what extent his condition was could only be guessed.

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It seemed like it had been years since she had started walking across the large white marble bridge toward one of the island gardens, and yet it seemed as though she had hardly crossed any distance. As she walked across, she noticed the dead silence of the world around her, and how the only thing she could hear were her trudging foot steps. Though the silence was so great that she could swear that she could hear her thoughts louder than her feet. Suddenly she could hear the echoes of a song she used to sing and dance to. Vaan would always bang on his small hallowed cactuar drum for her, as she sang for the crowds, trying to earn a shiny gil.

_Water, water, on the seeds_

_To my left they rose and leaf_

_To my right cross seven seas_

The words crept up to her ears, and she glanced around the see the source because it sounded as though she was actually singing it from behind her, growing nearer. She walked on, and tried to keep her eyes forward toward her destination, which was still far off.

_Maybe maybe they'll stay true,_

_My seeds will cross and then take root,_

_And leave you to an empty room,_

_Loenly, lonely, that is you_

_Lonely, lonely, that is you_

Now as she realized the situation around her, it seemed as though she was mocking herself. As a child you don't think about the words of the songs you sing, but now, it was weighing heavily on her heart.

_Paper, paper, obselete,_

_How will you reach out to me,_

_I thought you'd ask me not to leave,_

_Lonely, lonely, that is me_

_Lonely, lonely, that is me_

There was suddenly a slight breeze from nowhere to begin with, and going nowehere to end up. It blew her hair, and she could smell the warm Dalmascan sand in its wake. She closed her eyes as she walked, and she could see Rabanastre just as it was ten years ago, before the war, before Vayne, and before the complications of the world. It was a memory she wanted to see again, even if she were only able to see the large corpse of the Bahamut lodged in the 'Ashelia Oasis'.

_By my only, things are clear,_

_Dalmascan boy, i'm staying here,_

_Lonely, lonely, that was you_

_Lonely and so, oh, untrue_

She heard the bells ringing in the distance from the palace, and then she could hear her father walk up, strumming his strings to her song, and then the clapping of the crowd as she began to twirl... and twirl... and twirl... and twirl...

She finally opened her eyes, and a single tear fell. It ran down her cheek, and she held her hand over the warm trail. Now, from this welcoming memory that she had thought forgotten, she felt more lonely than ever. Fran's sacrifice had left her thoughts heavy, and the thoughts of what everyone else thought of her right now deepened the weight. Though the song was finished, more singing resonated around her, this time from her heart. These lyrics belonged not to the song, but were her own words to the melody; A voice from the past, joining hers, forming her melody of life.

By my only, things are clear...

But my only isn't here...

She was alone, and the notion had never made itself as clear as it had now. She could see the face of her only, but he wasn't here. She suddenly felt another wind picking up, however this air was cold, and thick. It rose from the ground, and up drifted around her head, fluttering her bangs about her face and the drifting about her once more.

"Poor, poor hume child. Walking through light immortal, lost from the world." she heard. She knew that voice, for she had heard it so long ago, yet nearer than preffered. She felt unsafe now, vulnarable and trapped in this world with those she spurned two years ago. "Your body trembles so. Are you afraid?" it asked her, and she looked around. Suddenly before her, it appeared, like stars slowly blinking into existence, and forming the sturdy form of the being.

"Are you an Occurian?" Penelo asked, trying the steady her voice.

"I am Gerrun, lord of the Crest Of Eden." it told her. She looked around, feeling other unseen eyes watching her. "Do not be frightened, hume child, we will not harm you." it said. She nodded slowly, though her body remained tense and trembled. "We are here to bring you back to the Ivalice you clasp onto so eagerly. With the Mark of Eden, you will cut down that which has scarred you."

"You're... you're going to help me?" Penelo said, stepping closer to the being. "This Mark will defeat Shiva?"

"Indeed. However do not misunderstand our assistance for alliance; were you here by different circumstances, we would bring to you an eternity of despair for your blasphemy against us. However there are laws that even we Gods must obey, old magick that is above even our abilities. Sacrifice is a law that we must obey, and so we will take you back to your realm, hume child." Gerrun said. Penelo felt unsafe once again knowing that they wanted to harm her, even though they promised they wouldn't. "It seems that fate has chosen you to bring an end to the God of old, and in spite of our personal desires, we will support you completely in this task. Those fools must NOT be ushered back from limbo."

A large symbol of light had formed itself before her, and Penelo didn't know what to do with it.

"Touch this Mark, hume child!" it hissed impatiently, and she quickly thrust her hand up to the light without a second thought. It thrust into her palm like a series of daggers, yet she felt nothing. She looked at her hand, and it looked as ordinary as it had moments before. "When the time has come for its beckoned call, you will use the power of this seal to bring down your foe. Shiva has already become whole, her memories joining her being, and now she roams the face of Ivalice. You must not allow her to revive any other entities," Gerrun told Penelo. "It is most important that you understand this."

Penelo nodded, feeling less threatened by the Occurian lord as it gazed down to her. Suddenly, she was swept up by that same thick and cold wind she felt before, and in a haze of light, she fell to the ground. She felt the dusty ground beneath her, and as she stood up, she realized the place in which she stood. Those memories that had echoed had been past and prediction as she stood once more in Rabanastre. With Fran's sacrifice, and the Occuria's transcendance, she was home.

"And where exactly did you come from?" Penelo heard. She turned around in the Sandsea, and was so happy to see Tomaj that she threw her arms around him. She was alive, and the being within her, that cold and beligerant entity called Shiva, was gone. She was free, and it was the most happiest feeling she had felt in a long time.

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A/N: And so Penelo is given a second chance to set things right! How will this whole ruddy affair turn out??? What will the Mark of Eden, seal of the Gods, do??? Find out in Chapter 10!!! R&R please :D


	10. Chapter 10: The Sorcerer King

"They lie just beyond this door, sir." the young soldier informed the group. Larsa nodded, and sent him off. The citadel had become a gyrating beehive of iron clad soldiers, all afraid and uncertain, protecting the most certainly afraid denizens of Archades. The madam nurse and her apprentice opened the doors before them, and bowed as Larsa walked by them. Balthier hadn't noticed their presence, and focused on Larsa's back. Around them were the moans, and groans of the dozens of injured servants, and guards. At the end of this long hall of pain and in the growing case, death, lied their two friends. Vaan, next to an empty bed, had awaken, and was slumped over the Grimoire, staring at the leather bound face of it. Ashe and Larsa had become so relieved that for a moment they were complete strangers, rushing toward him and embracing him. Never had prim and formality been dropped so quickly, and never had it been found so hastily as they stood, and embarassingly adjusted themselves. Balthier had to admit that in the dim hour, that was something he had to laugh about, even if only to himself. Basch smiled as he observed, but quickly turned his attention elsewhere.

At first glance, Balthier thought he was looking across from Vaan, to where the battered and injured Rebe lie, however, his eyes had soon found themselves drifting upward to the bed beside his; the very last bed, next to the wall. Balthier stepped slowly, toward this area, ignoring the unconcious Rebe completely. He loomed over the figure, the face he had wished to see for so long. And then he felt it; a sharp pain inside of him, in the middle of his chest, as if a weight had been placed there, putting a strain on his heart. Ashe and Larsa turned in curiosity to his strange zombie trance, and then followed his eyes where Ashe gasped in shock. Larsa smiled faintly, and then it left his face when he saw that she was not moving.

"Is she..." Ashe began. Basch shook his head, and stepped next to Balthier. He placed a simple hand on Balthier's shoulder, and sighed.

"She sleeps," he began, looking nowhere but to Fran's lithe and still body. "She is looking after our taken ally at the moment; soon to return, do not worry." He smiled when he saw Larsa's darkened face. He did not feel the need to tell them the rest of the truth, the truth that haunted him so. The burdening truth of knowing that she may never return. Balthier was still in awe, and feeling that he could stand no more, he sat in the three legged stool between the beds.

Vaan had finally stood up and trudged his way to Rojo's bedside, and looked down at the old creature. He looked up and across to Fran, and the others, and then back at the book that lay still upon his bed where he had left it.

"He saved my life," he said to himself. The rest were so focused on their own thoughts that they had hardly even noticed he said anything, let alone noticed him standing.

"Vaan, what were you even doing in Archades?" Ashe asked him, though more of a demand. "what happened here?" she asked him. Their faces were barely lit in the dim candle light beside the beds, but he looked her in the eyes as best as he could.

"I... I stowed away on your airship." he told her. "I've been spying on you and Larsa ever since." he said. Larsa thought it would be something to that effect, but he hadn't put much more thought to it than that. He could care less about Vaan's doings at the moment, for he had only one person in mind. He had to save her, but how? What could he do alone, other than fight a losing battle against what he now knew to be a monster more powerful than Venat himself. In fact this being may have been the very creator of Venat. What other horror could it enflict upon the world, now that it had Penelo to act through? Before he had even realized it, his legs were taking him through the long hall of the hospital wing. He looked behing his shoulder, and thanks to the shadows cast by hands and movement in the candle's light, they had not noticed his disappearance.

There was at least one man who may have been able to help him, the only man his father trusted with his life. The only man his father _could_ trust with his life. The great and powerful Lord of the 13th Allegiance of Archades; Alagon, The Sorcerer King.

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As Al-Cid walked the great and open space of _Sior Stenias Et Lah_, or The Hall Of Holy Kings, his foot steps echoed in the grandeur of its scale, for it was the largest hall in the monstrous structure of the House Margrace. He passed armored soldier after soldier, making his way to the front of the hall, where the golliath Statue of Adriath Margrace stood in his valor, holding his famed sword Noraus, The Black Blade of The Fell. At the soles of his great ancestor stood his elder brother, and the man he was searching for in his rage. With his back turned to him, Al-Cid felt something cold wash over him as he drew nearer, and he smelled a strange stench. Before his mind had time to fully comprehend these oddities, his brother Al-Zed turned heel and faced Al-Cid.

"Brother," Al-Zed spoke through his smiling guise, "you've come to my call." he said, opening his arms to embrace Al-Cid.

"I come to see what this madness is about!" he said, spitting on the ground before Al-Zed's open gesture. His older brother's face dropped with disdain, and he turned his back once more in a grunting snare.

"You show your kin such disrespect in the hall of your ancestors?" Al-Zed said, his voice as nonchallant as before.

"You gather an army in a needless declaration of war before their very eyes - in their name, to put shame to it!" Al-Cid said, glancing over his shoulder to the few hundred of soldiers behind him. "What do you hope to accomplish with less than two hundred 'boys', who are barely old enough to weild a sword? Why all of this now? Why carelessly shatter the peace we have sustained with Archadia!?" he said in a rage, and shoved his brother's shoulder in anger to gain his full attention. "Turn and face me when I speak to you, brother!"

"Are you saying that you stand against your family in this oncoming war? Am I to understand that you stand against your people? The young Emperor Larsa is brother to the late Vayne Solidor, and he will soon follow in his brother's ambitions." Al-Zed said finally facing his younger brother and looking him in the eyes. Al-Cid looked disgusted that he would even use those arguments against him to justify his brash moves. "It is for the sake of Rozarria's people that I move forward with this army."

"Father will not stand for this." he said as he turned to go to the afforementioned.

"But my dear brother," Al-Zed called out to him as Al-Cid pushed his way through the crowd of disoriented young men, "It was our father who declared this war, not I!" his voice echoed throught the hall many times over, and Al-Cid stopped in his steps in the dead silence that followed. He felt the heat of the hundreds of curious eyes watching him, and he turned around to look at his brother's face, full of malice and satisfaction. Al-Cid walked back up to where his brother stood, fists shaking in anger for the accusation of his father's name, and when he was feet away, he lifted his fist to strike his brother down.

He thrust his fist forward, making contact as the gathered forced of his blow transfered its energy into Al-Zed's face. He was forced back and fell against the statue of Adriath Margrace, and looked up into Al-Cid's eyes. They were dark, and full of hatred for the older man.

"Do you really hate me so, brother?" he asked, rubbing the spot on his face that had just been struck.

"With every inch of me." Al-Cid said plainly, and he clenched his fists even tighter. His older brother smiled, and stood up, using the statue for support. He waved his arm to the men at the multi-story tall windows to draw their curtains. As they gathered their men, five to a rope, they pulled hard and quickly. Light poured into the hall, and Al-Cid could see the dark grey overcast sky outside.

"An army of two hundred armed boys could not take Archadia, my dear brother." Al-Zed said as he led him outside onto on of the four balconies overlooking the Ouest Plains. "But an army of ten thousand men, and thirty thousand dead can overtake any known kingdom in all of Ivalice." he stated. Al-Cid peared over the rail in bewilderment as he stared across dozens of thousands of men, all armed and ready to command. The front fourth of the lines had bowed at their presence, but the other three quarters of the army did not move. Al-Zed handed him his monocular. Al-Cid took the mini-telescope into his hand and peered through unto the horrific scenery. The other three quarters of the army did nothing because of one simple fact; they were dead. Standing among the living, they breathed and stared unto their shadows in the distance. Then mounted on a horse, as a General of the army, was a very familiar face. It was torn, and garishly gashed, but behind the rot and ruin there he was.

"Frèren," he said the name, and almost dropped the monocular from his grasp. He had never seen so many soldiers gathered in one place. How could the dead be standing there, breathing as if they had never died in the first place? How could _he_ be alive, yet still dead? He turned disbelievingly to Al-Zed who had snatched his fore arm in a flash. Then Al-Cid felt the burning acidic feeling rush into his arm, and it began to spread throughout his body. Al-Zed could see the pain and fear of the world in his eyes, and he suddenly snapped to.

"No! Not enough to kill him!" Al-Zed yelled aloud. His grip had loosened, and Al-Cid fell limply to the ground, taking in a deep breathe as he did.

"I was to do no such thing; I merely didn't want him able to cause your father any more trouble than he has already." Al-Zed said, almost as if he were talking to himself. Al-Cid furrowed his brows as he witnessed this strange demeanor. Al-Zed then looked down to him and snapped his fingers.

"Take him before my father. He has been found guilty of treason for conspiring against the Royal Family." he told the two young men who had come at his summoning. They nodded, and took him by his arms to be dragged off. As he felt his control over his consciousness begin to fade, he saw a large black figure standing around his brother. Shadow that hissed and screeched into his ears before the darkness took hold of him completely.

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The Chocobo steed stepped caustiously through the Flammen Pass, under rock and wall, it looked around almost as if it were afraid of something. Larsa, however, had noticed nothing but a foul odor on the air, and was finding the act a bit annoying. Alagon only lived on the other side of the Flammen Pass, On the edge of the Medea Forest. He could have been there before anyone in Archades had known him missing. But this Chocobo he had chosen, unfortunately, had been inching its way through for almost an hour, and no matter how many times he squeezed its sides, it would go no faster. Larsa finally gave up, and decided to dismount. The very moment his foot was off of the saddle, it was turned around and ran in a flash. He would have been frustrated but it was more of a relief to have the silly bird run off. He would just walk there by foot and be there within the hour.

He wondered if Alagon would help him if he explained their situation? He wondered if Alagon knew of the legend of the war of the Gods, and how they were betrayed by their servants, sealed away in crystals and shattered, scattered around Ivalice. He had only met Alagon once, and before that he had never known the man to exist. However, not many seemed to remember his existence to begin with, since the 13th Alliance of Archades had long been dead and forgotten. Alagon The Sorcerer King was the Lord of nothing now, save for his own wisdom in which Larsa's father had reveled in often. If his father trusted his counsel then surely Larsa would put all of his trust into it as well. In fact these first steps on this night could be opening the path to a most useful ally.

He noticed the stink of before getting stronger, and he figured he must be drawing closer to a rotting carcass of some unfortunate creature. The high stone walls on either side of him blocked the cold night air, but it was still a bit colder than he'd preferred. As he rounded the next corner in this long open, ceilingless tunnel of rock, he heard something from behind him. He turned quickly to see nothing at all. Then he heard something to his right, and he jolted around even quicker than before, drawing his sword. But there was nothing there. No movement in the still atmosphere. Then he saw something out of the corner of his eye, and he saw it; a stone. A small stone falling from above. And then another to his left. He slowly looked up, and was greeted with the bellowing growl, and the odious stench of its breath as the beast bared its long and crusted fangs. Larsa, took many hastened steps backward, falling on his back as the beast continued to walk above him using the stone walls. It finally dropped above him, and it did stare him in his eyes, with its own clustered eyes. It had only four long and narrow legs, for the others had been cut off by many brave warriors who had survived this Lob, and many who had not. It opened its gaping mouth, where rows and rows of fangs could be seen behind its long and yellow frontal fangs.

Larsa swung the blade, and to this reaction, the monstrous beast retracted enough for him to get from underneath its scorpion like body. It moved closer cautiously, and quickly making hastend advances before stopping at his sharp edge. It opened its great and round mouth wide again, and spread its large powerful wings, like those of a moth, torn and holed with corruption from the darkness in which it dwelled. Larsa knew that this was an attempt to intimidate him, for it was too walled in to take flight, but that mouth was wide enough to swallow the girth of a large keg, and so it would have to problem making himself its next feast if he was not attentive.

The large creature flitted its wings threateningly, and Larsa did not brace for its bluff, however that would be his downfall for the sneak rushed him immediately after, thrusting him backwards, and stretching its gaping hole open, and squeezing it shut, bringing all those needle teeth close to impaling Larsa. But larsa used the width of his sword to make sure it did not do just that. Every time it struck, his blade met its mouth, its fangs crashed into his steel, and the flesh of its mouth was sliced again. However after pushing Larsa back so far, he had been pushed against the wall of the path. He could only go to his left, which was the next open corridor in the Flammen Pass, nearly the end of this horrid situation; but as he made to run, the beast stopped him with its legs, and forced his again into the wall, this time holding him there. Now that Larsa was pinned, it drew back slowly, and halted. He gripped his sword tightly, and waited for its strike, for he knew it would come fast and swiftly. It struck, and he thrust. He plunged the sword into its head, but his plan had not gone as planed. He had planned to pierce its head, but the force of the strike had shifted his aim and the sword cut through the hollow on the right side of its face, slicing through the cheek.

The giant insectoid breed of animal howled and screeched in pain, as Larsa did the same, for although his sword was sharp, so too were its hundreds of needle-fangs that had pierced the length of his arm as the mouth closed around his stab. Now they were locked in pain, and it dragged him back with her as it writhed in pain, causing the bite to worsen since the fangs were now pulling and digging as it did so.Finally it opened its mouth and a slight whimper escaped. Larsa's sleeve had been torn to shreds, and fell off as soon as he had withdrawn. His muscleds were torn, and his skin ripped. His sword had fallen out of the hole it pierced in the beasts mouth, for he could no longer hold it; he could no longer feel anything in his arm anymore. While the creature was shaking its head in pain and surprise, Larsa quickly rushed underneath it and took up his sword in his left hand.

He made a quick strike to its right fore leg, and watched it fall unbalanced. As it turned on the ground, he cut off the rear leg of the same side. Now it could no longer walk, hunt, stalk, or attack anything anymore. He almost felt a sickening of pity watching it trying to scuttle away as it bleed to death, its blood thick and black. It smelled putrid, smelling of rotting flesh. That was indeed what he had smelled entering this path, and he knew now why he smelled it so strongly; it smelled strongly while inside of its body, but the blood released was almost unbearable.

The panic re-entered his thoughts as she began to feel the numbness spread through him. It spread down his left side, and then down to his legs. He collapsed in terror; it had poisoned him, and now it seemed that it spread too quickly for him to do anything to fight now. As the numb sensation reached his left arm, his hand left go of the sword, and he thought of only one person as he felt the numbing spread across his face, forcing him to close his eyes.

_I'm sorry Penelo, I could not save you..._

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"How could we have not noticed!? He is the emperor of Archades!" Basch exclaimed, his voice belowing throughout Larsa's office. They had hoped that he had gone there to put his thoughts into motion, but alas, he had gone. No one in the building could find him, all they had to go on was that some people had seen him leaving toward the stables. "We were careless..."

"Stop your self pitty and help us think." Balthier snapped. "What do we do now? There's nothing we can do about our young emperor until he decides to return, so let's focus on what we know and what our plan of action is." He said. "I think-" but he was cut off as he had felt that pain in his chest again, growing in familiarity too well for his taste. Everyone looked to his grimacing face as the pain grew, and grew, but finally the burning stopped, and he stood upright once more. He drew in a deep breathe, and ignored the quizzical faces. "I'm fine, it's nothing."

"Balthier, what exactly was that?" Vann asked, like Balthier knew he would. He only frowned, and was grateful to hear the doors opening behind him.

"Rojo," Ashe said, and everyone turned to face him. All but Balthier, who happened to notice that Vaan looked none too hapy to see the Rebe.

"Master Gabranth, Lady Ashe," he bowed in nod to each as he passed. "Young master theif," he nodded to Vaan, who looked more than disgruntled at the comment. "And," he said, now craning his head to look at Balthier, "who might _you _be, kin of Cidolfus?"

"How exactly did you know that?" Balthier asked skeptically. The Rebe let out a light chuckle, that sounded like he was trying to dislodge something caught in his throat with deep breaths.

"We Rebe remember someone by their scent," he explained, placing a clawed palm on Balthier's back, almost exactly where that reoccuring pain was. "I worked closely with your father. He was always researching something or another, until his dying day. Although, I regret never meeting either of his sons, he always told me that you, Ffamran, was his fondest."

"Wait, you have a brother?" Vaan asked, looking curious, which in Balthier's experience, was always trouble.

"Nay, during the uprising of Old Archades nine years ago, his brother was slain in battle." Rojo said in Balthier's step, never minding whether Balthier cared to share that bit of personal information with him. "Yes, that was the day that Master Ffamran lost his brother, Master-"

"That's enough, thank you." Balthier said, cutting the Rebe off. The Rebe held a hand up to his face, symbolising his disdain of interruption, but Balthier simply brushed his hand out of the way. "We've more important things to discuss."

"Ah, well I shall leave you to your business; I merely came to retrieve something that belongs to me." The tall Rebe told them. He held out his hand to Vaan and looked the much shorter boy up and down. "The book you stole from me, please."

"Vaan tell me that you did not come to Archades to steal a book!" Ashe said, placing an annoyed expression into the palm of her hand.

"It wasn't just any book..." he said. He picked it up off of Larsa's desk, where it sat next to its brother, stained and dark, and placed it into the claws of Rojo. "Sorry... I just needed to know."

"What is that there?" Rojo said, waving away his apology and stepping closer to the desk. Everyone turned to the book and then to the mesmerised gaze upon the Rebe's face. "I think I had better hold onto that one too, until the young emperor is found..." he said, focused on no one at the moment, until Balthier stepped in his way.

"It's the second copy of the Stellazzio Grimoire, and it will be staying with us, thank you." he told Rojo.

"But surely such an important piece of Ivalice's history shouldn't be left lying about, where something may happen to-"

"It's fine where it is." Balthier said sternly. Rojo's nose contorted as he stared down it into Balthier's face. Balthier didn't like the way he was looking at the book, let alone the way he was looking at him.

"How about I just leave this copy here for you to read, and I'll take that one. After all, what good would stained pages be to research?" Rojo said, lifting his brows to look as offeringly as possible. Balthier only intensified his glare, and then Ashe came to Rojo's side.

"He has a good point Balthier, if we need to read the content, it would be best to have the...'untainted' book." she said, looking disgustedly at the crusted blood of their enemy.

"If they're the same book, what should it matter which copy I have? besides, you, as book master, should keep posession of that copy to ensure that it doesn't meet the same fate." Balthier said, and Rojo's temper had suddenly risen to match Balthier's in less that a second. He then composed himself, and turned in a huff to leave them without another word, brooding over the book in his paws. Balthier looked to the book beneath him as the door snapped shut. "Now... what could these pages possibly hold to make him want it so eagerly..."

"Seems to me like he was just trying to help us out." Vaan said almost sheepishly, after watching the door Rojo had just disappeared behind. However Ashe and Basch both seemed to notice Rojo's strange fixation as well. They stood on either side of Balthier, and Vann joined them, as he flipped the book open, and read the initial paragraph;

To whomever may read beyond, know this;

I am the flame of justice, and should you heed these warnings,

No harm will come unto you.

However, I am also the scourge of wrath, and should you use these truths in greed,

You will suffer the fates of the curs before you.

Take into heart these histories,

And these prophecies,

And bend not the fates to do your will, but will the bend to fate your path.

IFRIT, KING OF BURNING PASSION: USHER UNTO THE HOUSE OF COURAGE

"Written by Irfit himself?" Belthier said aloud, and his face was as amused as the others.

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He was drifting in a sea of darkness, and in it, he could see to light anywhere. It was strange, to be in such a place. Since he himself was a part of this darkness, he could not even see himself. He could feel his body, but it was not there, as if a ghost of some sort. And then he saw a glimmering yellow light far off in the distance, and no name was given to it, but it whispered his name, and he knew the kindness in her voice immediately. As his renewed faith had washed over him, he knew now, certain as the sun would rise again, that she was alive. He refused to believe any harm had come to her. Then he felt a rush of pain up his right arm, and he was thrust into reality again.

Larsa lie cold and vulnarable on the cold stone ground. The strong smell of rotting flesh lingered in his nose, and it was almost too much to bear breathing it in. He could not use his right arm to help push him up, since it was sustained to such damage. As he stood, using only his left arm, his will, and his hope, he looked around to all the blood that he had lost. He noticed that his arm was still slowly bleeding, and wondered why it hadn't clotted yet. He saw that the beast was nowhere to be seen, assumingly crawled away to die somewhere. He bent low to retrieve his sword, and make the rest of the short distance to the edge of the Medea Forest before he lost too much blood to continue; he was light headed as it was.

He urged his limbs to the end of the Pass, step by step, now having a purpose again, knowing that Penelo wasn't dead. He could make it, just a few more steps, willing himself on as he ignored a large and strange rock to his right. He could smell the pine in the breeze blowing toward him, and he could make out the trees in the darkness. Suddenly, he heard a scuffling, and he turned as quickly as he could without losing his balance. The large rock he had chosen not to acknowledge seconds ago was following him. Strange behavior for a rock, he thought, until he squinted his eyes and saw two long, narrow sticks dragging the raging rock. And then he noticed that this rock had a large gaping mouth to one side of it, and then was the adrenaline rushed through his body, he was fully awake once again. It was the beast still after him, and he barely had enough strength to drag his sword, there was absolutely no way he could strike it. He turned and tried to hurry down the path as quickly as he could, one dizzy foot after another dizzy foot, until he heard that the beast was getting closer, meaning it was currently faster than he. He had to do something; he dropped the sword. This big prove to help slightly, but now he had nothing to hold onto when he felt as though he were going to fall; and fall he did, flat on his face. He shakily lifted himself with his left arm to peer over his shoulder, and saw the beast too close for comfort. His legs wouldn't budge, perhaps not enough blood, or perhaps they were frozen in fright.

With one able arm, he dragged his body as far as he could, moving only inches at a time. He peered behind him and the beast was only inches away, ready to shred his flesh from his bones slowly, ingesting him. There was no outrunning this beast, and so with what life he had left, Larsa thought of Penelo's smile, and he saw light with it. However, the light was not coming from his mind; it was coming from up ahead, and the beast behind him screeched in agony. Then he heard a bellowing voice booming all around him, echoing into the Flammen Pass.

"Fall back into the darkness of the path, and await your doom!" it shouted. Larsa looked behind him, and could see that the light, as strong as the sun, was burning the flesh of the beast, boils spreading across as it seared. It made one last gesture to swallow Larsa into its wide open, needle lined mouth, when the voice shouted again, "Back! Back into the darkness! You earn no kill in defeat, now _**back**_!" the voice commanded, and the light increased, burning the beast char black, and its eyes oozed out if their sockets. It fell, lifeless and still, and the light faded. As it did so, the darkness seemed even more black and Larsa turned over onto his stomach. And he felt faint come over him once more as he exhaustedly looked up and into the smiling face of Alagon, The Sorcerer King.

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"General Saphryn, sir, Lord Al-Zed summons you," a young boy informed him, draped in chainmail that was too long, and too wide for him to move easily in. Saphryn sat on the steps of the courtyard, staring at the three trees of the Royal sons as they stood there. The left of the trees was bare, smallest of the three. The second tree was green and flurishing of the Strelitzia's famed rose, but the third stood grey, dying and callous. He watched leaf after leaf fall helplessly to the stone beneath them. Each leaf thrown away as though they were nothing to the tree, so long as it could still stand in glory as a tree. "Sir Saphryn?"

"Come hither, boy," he spoke, his throat hoarse, and voice demanding. The boy wasted no time and immediately jumped to stand before the steps the Black Knight sat upon, and bowed down upon bended knee. Saphryn stared at his fidgiting body as he tried desperately to balance on one knee and bow at the same time. "You may rise," Saphryn said as he lifted his chin with his fingers.

"What is it your lordship wishes of me?" the boy asked as he looked to Saphryn's feet, daring not the look up the the man's eyes.

"Have you any skill with a sword?" he asked. To which the boy shook his head in shame.

"No sir, I'm only a humble castle servant."

"Have you any family?" he asked, to which the boy again shook his head in shame.

"My family died before I could remember their faces."

"This war is madness..." Saphryn sighed, his voice heavy and weary. "You are not fit to fight; he is merely throwing all of you into a field, to be used as one large plot to bury you in..."

"Sir?"

"My daughter is dead. My duty is corrupt. My hands are stained with injstice. My honor has been sold, and my cause is lost all because of that man..." Saphryn said, his voice rasped. His breath was shakey, and he placed a hand upon the young man's shoulders. "Why then should I answer his beckoning call when I would only lose something else; the only pieces left of me?" The boy stood silent, unsure of what to say when he saw the anguished face of the fearless Black Knight. "My daughter died with no meaning," he sighed. "I promised her, when I found her beaten and violated that her life would always have meaning, even after her people had abandoned her; I would never let her die without a cause." He sobbed once, and then clenched his jaw to control himself once more as a single stream had appear upon his right cheek. "All lies..."

He stood, and the young man stood back quickly, and watched as Saphryn withdrew his famous white bladed sword, handed down from Black Knight to Black Knight through the ages. Forged from a metal known only to the Gods, and so long ago that its name has long been forgotten. He then placed it swiftly back into its sheeth and unstrapped the belt around his waist. He then handed the long and heavy blade to the boy, and the young man looked bewildered.

"Go now, run to the stables and show them my sword, and tell them that I have given you permission to ride Ziz, my personl steed that I've raised from birth. It's a black-feather so it will take you where you need to go the fastest. Ride to Archadia and deliver this sword to a man by the name of Gabranth, a good ally of mine. Make sure it is him, and no one else - _**do not **_let anyone take it to him but you. Tell no one of where you go. Now make haste!" he said, and the boy ran past him without question as fast as his legs would carry him. Saphryn did not turn, but stared at the rotting tree before him. "And pray that you reach him before Al-Zed can reach you..."

From the sheeth strapped to the thigh of his armor, he withdrew a dagger. Not much of a blade in length, but even the smallest blad was long enough to do what he was about to do. There was no other way, and he had to end this now. If not for his own honor put to shame, than for the name of Lucyle.

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So let me know what you think; war and shadow is about to fall over Ivalice as the hunt for the cryst's begins, and the second war of the gods lurks just around the corner. In the next chapter... R&R PLEASE :D


	11. Chapter 11: The End Of The Era

A/N: This update has been a long time coming, and I deeply apologize for that. What can I say? Life get's complicated. Anyway, I hope there are still loyal fans who are willing to try and get back into the storyline for the sake of finding out what happens if not for the story itself.

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The sky was a dark grey, like charcoal smudged across white paper. There was the distinct smell of rain in the air, and the boy was relieved to know that he had been able to successfully erect his tent. The large, sleek black chocobo sat across from him at the fire, staring at the small hare skewered and roasting. A loud crack of thunder echoed around them, and he jumped, heart nearly stopping in his chest.

"I don't know about you, Ziz, but... This entire valley gives me an unseasy feeling." The boy said, pushing his dark burgandy hair out of his eyes. The large black bird only squeaked at his comment, and clicked its beak. A cold wind rushed through the trees, and he felt the first drop of rain. The wind blew out the fire, and suddenly the rain fell hard. The drastic change in weather had happened so fast that by the time the young lad had made it inside of his tent, he was soaked from head to toe. The large steed didn't seem to mind the rain, however, as it sat casually as it had before, looking up into the sky.

He layed at the entrance of the tent, and waiting for the rain to die down, laying on the soft surface of a thin blanket. The water was washing away the earth around him, and he was beginning to worry that the ground would wear down and form a path into his tent. He really would rather not deal with a miniature river flooding his tent at this moment. He was missing his soft bed, in his warm room. Home seemed to far away now, for he had been riding to Archades for two days now. To be honest, he wasn't even sure if he was going the right way. This was the first time he had ever left Strelitzia, and he knew nothing of traveling, direction, or even navigating. The map did little gooe when he wasn't sure of the distances and land marks drawn onto its smooth surface.

His mother was probably tending to the bar that they owned, while his sister played with her stuffed cat doll with the small golden crown she had won from the last Festival of The Ides, and a little red cape she made for it. Their house happened to be right above the bar, so his mother could still run the business and keep an eye over his sister when their father was away. His father was a messenger of kings, though as impressive as it sounded, it included very little pay, although the upkeep of his favorited chocobo, Fenrir, was free of charge since when he was a guest of a palace, it was automatically fed the best greens and bathed. Although he did miss his father much these days, it made the time he was around worth something more than just company. One day Denz hoped to take over his father's courier service and make him proud. After all, it was the least he could do. His parents had taken him, a low sickly orphan, into their home and nursed him back to health.

Denz stole a glance to the long, thick and heavy black leather sheath beside him in the small tent, and looked it over. The Black Knight Saphryn's blade, the actual sword handed down from Black Knight to Black Knight. He did admit that it was a bit strange for the man to entrust the boy with such an important task, but he seemed very distraught over the loss of his daughter. Maybe her death had driven him insane? He then turned his head back to the clearing outside, and he stared at the chocobo for a moment. It stared at the ground, unmoving as if frozen, and Denz's eyes followed the gaze of Ziz down to something glinting in the light.

Denz sat of his elbows, and squinted his eyes to see what it was the water had uncovered from the earth soil. It looked like a crystal. A small, black crystal, gleaming in the sunless light of the rainy day. He crawled out of the tent, and out into the cold rain once more to investigate. It was like no crystal he'd ever seen before. He felt something within the pit of his stomache, urging him forward. His hand seemed to be moving of its own accord, reaching slowly to pluck it from the mud. It was mesmerizing, and it sounded like there was a pulse coming from the crystal, ringing in his ears; like it was calling him, pleading for his touch. His mind was pulled away, however, when he noticed that the rain was now falling a bit harsher. Not that it had picked up any more than it was, but more that it was... frozen? It fell like thousands of hard little icicles, some sharp like needles, and he thought the weather had been strange enough, but it looked like he was wrong. He felt cold suddenly, as if the air had suddenly dropped thirty or fourty degrees. It was freezing, and he was already soaked, again, and being pelted with ice. His hair was forming icicles and the trees were no longer blowing in the wind, frozen like statues.

"Hume child," he heard a beautiful voice call to him, and it was smooth like silk. "Tell me why you reach for that cryst so earnestly?" she asked him. He shivered at the wind, and braced against this voice that encircled his head. "You hear it call to you, and you immediately come running."

He turned and turned, looking fervently for this woman, and as he spun, he had found her. Out of the shadows of the trees, she appeared, blue from head to toe. Her skin shined like smooth marble, and the gold jewelry that ornated her body sparkled like stars in broad daylight. Her hair was sliver, and long, flowing beautifully behind her as she slowly walked toward him. Every step she took, a blue vapor would flow from the stop on the ground. How beautiful she was, like a goddess.

"That stone wants to be found." she told him, lifting a delicate hand and pointing to the midnight black crystal. "It would have used you in order to be found. Like a pawn, you would have headed its beckoning command, and it would have had its way." she said. She flicked her wrist up, and the shard flew out of the ground and into her palm. It flanded lightly, and Denze watched as it stood upright, right on the tip of its point. "You Humes and your foolish curiosity. You would be dead if not for my interference, yet you all shun from me. Would you rather I put you to death as you would have been?" She took a step closer, and Denz felt something strong convulsing his stomach muscles. "What you feel now is fear, Hume child, and it is meant to keep you alive."

And then just like that, this beautiful woman was gone, leaped into the air with such forced that the ground cracked and the trees splintered all around him. She flew away with comet speed, and Denze was left to wonder what had just happened, and whether or not it was real. He was alive, and that was what was important. He decided that he had rested long enough and now was the time to gather up the sword and ride Ziz out of this cursed valley. After all, she might come back. He glance over to the chocobo, and saw that it had not moved since its initial glare toward the stone. Denze stood up, and walked toward it slowly, and brushing his hand across its smooth feathers; it did not stir. It was frozen.

§-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-§

There was a loud explosion behind him, and he air was thick with gunsmoke. Balthier sat upon his chocobo, and watched the scene of onslaught. The impovered urchins of Old Archades had only what they could find, broken brooms sharpened at the end, old, broken, rusted swords, small daggers. The Archades Guard had shields, longswords, and of course, rifles to take down as many as possible as they charged. Balthier turned his head in disgust and he watched men, women, and even children fall to the bullets of their oppressors. Beside him, Judge Magister Bergan smirked as he watched the bloodshed.

As the crowd of wood-be warriors reached the guard, every soldier withdrew his long steel blade and began to kill the wave of attackers with ease. They were cut down with the edge of the razor sharp first class swords, and what a mess it was to see. Arms were flying with the hollowed sound of anguished screams, which were then cut of as the heads began to roll. Then something drastically change the scene; one of the soldiers had been stabed in his side, and when he flinched to clutch his side, his head had been smashed to a mesh of blood and skull fragments as one of the Old Archades uprisers had taken his smithee hammer to the man. That opened a hole in their line of defense, and they began to swarm inside of their defense, killing the soldiers left, and right. Bergan kicked his chocobo, and rode off to revel in the bloodshed with a menacing grin. Balthier withdrew his sword, and then he saw his brother ride off into battle with Bergan, though he had been pale from fear. Balthier called out to him, trying to stop him; what was he trying to prove? Fighting in this massacre was madness, and they were told to stay behind and observe the fight, getting involved only when it meant their lives were at stake.

Suddenly, he heard something crash to his right. He looked, and noticed an old roof shingle crushed on the ground, fallen from above. He looked up, and saw someone flying toward him. They jumped off of the roof of the old building and tackled him off od his steed. They hit the stone ground hard, and rolled at they fought, Balthier to disentangle himself. He threw this person off of him, and scrambled for his sword, standing at ready to fight. He watched as this person who had thrown him to the ground withdrew a long dagger from an ankle strap. It was a young girl, a few years younger than himself. His shoulders loosened at the sight of her, and the angry look in her eyes.

"What are you waiting for? Attack me!" she barked, eyeing his sword and calculating her chances in her head. Balthier stood upright, out of his defensive stance, and looked at the sight of her. "Come on!" she yelled, and he shook his head. He wasn't going to strike her, he couldn't. He held out his hand and droped his sword.

"Pick up your sword, Lordly Swine!" She cried, and he shook his head. She looked confused, and angry at the same time. And so she charge, in one swift fluent motion, and then she thrust forward. She was stopped by the blow when the blade had pierced his stomache. She was angry, and then disgusted by what she had done, and Balhier could see in her eyes that she could not quite comprehend what she had just done. "Why?" she asked him, looking up and into his eyes. "Why didn't you defend yourself!?" She shouted, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Because," Balthier said, wincing as her fist shook with emotion, which in turn was shaking the blade in his belly. "Because you're a person." He told her. Her hand let go of the sword suddenly, and she looked down at the dagger, and then back up into his eyes. A shudder of disbelieve waved across her face, and the tears fell. "You shouldn't be here... you should run while you can..." he said, suddenly feeling nauseous and light headed. He could no longer support his weight, and he fell forward, the girl catching him.

"You... You called me a person..." she said, and held him tightly. "No one's ever called me that before... no one's ever treated me like an... equal..." she whispered into his ear. "I'm so sorry..."

Balthier closed his eyes, and then he heard someone from far off calling out to him. He lifted his head and opened his eyes and peered off into the battling crowd where his brother was calling his name. Ffamran... it echoed in his head and his eyes shot open as he saw his brother take up his rifle in anger and aimed for the girl holding his body up. In one swift motion, he used what strength he had left in his body and grabbed her by her shoulders, swinging her around. Then he felt white hot lightning pierce through his body, blood shooting out of his chest and marking her face. She became rigid under his hold, and her eyes wide. "Run." Balthier told her, letting go. She turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could, glancing back to him occasionally. And then he fell to the ground, fading out of the world, feeling hand lift and carry him. So this was what it felt like to die. The pain remained, he thought that would disappear, but he was flying, or more accurately being carried by unseen hands.

"Who are you?" he heard a voice ask him in the darkness after being carried some distance. It was his father, asking who he was. Silly question to ask, though he would answer him if it made him happier with his son.

"I'm... Ffamran..." Balthier said, and then he heard his fathers relief as he sighed, and the patted his on his shoulder.

"My son... my only son..." Cid said. Balthier furrowed his brows and struggled to breathe.

"Where is... my brother?" He asked, opening his eyes. He was alive. He was alive. No matter how many times he said it, he couldn't believe it. He was alive.

"He died in battle." His father said, his voice acidic. "At least he managed to do something right." he said as he walked off, and then Balthier felt cold hands stripping him. These hands also had voices of their own, talking of surgery, and stitching, blood loss and whatnot. Balthier didn't care for these cold voices as they worked, he simply played his fathers words through his head. His brother was dead. Died in battle.

Balthier awoke to a cold dark night. The nightmare was just as horrifying as when he had lived it. His chest burned, and he lifted his hand to the scar the surgery had left him. Images of those days still burned in his mind. The massacre, the girl, his brother, his father performing the operation... He wished he could just forget.

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Larsa felt a world of pain when his senses had returned. His arm felt like it was on fire, and he dare not move for the intensity of it would flare.

"Joined me at last, young Master Solidor." Larsa heard. His head stirred and he opened his eyes. He drew in a dead breath and then whimpered when he felt the throbbing sting of his damaged flesh. "And you've taken quite severe injury. A fool is what you call an emperor without a guard, especially when he is the last of his kin, _and_ without heir." Alagon said, standing and striding to Larsa's bed, looming over the young man. Then, in the darkness, Larsa could see the old man smile, his eyes twinkling in the shadows. "But what would the world be without fools."

"Lord Alagon, sir, I have need of - " Larsa began, but bit his lower lip in pure agony when he attempted to sit up.

"That will haunt you for some time, I'm afraid. The healing upkeep will be strenuous alone." Alagon laughed, walking over to a wooden chair in the corner of this room.

"Lord Alagon, I have come to you in great need." Larsa plead, struggling through the sting and sitting upright on the bed. He looked around, and used his good hand to rub his eyes, and the sweat from his brow. "Something is happening and I am in dire need of your knowledge."

"What could I, an old man of ages past, possibly tell an emperor?" Alagon mocked, leaning back in his seat and lighting a his pipe. He drew in a lungful of whatever it was he was smoking, and blew, the smoke jetting like a snake through the air. "I should think that mut of a councilman would tell you what ever it is he thinks he knows. You know, the dog."

"Sir, I know you and Sir Rojo have your disputes, but please, I emplore you, leave them out of this." Larsa said, swinging his legs over the bedside and sitting there, staring at the once renowned, now reclused, sorcerer. The old man smiled.

"I had every intention to, my young Lord. Now what is it that you felt need to come to me personally?" Alagon asked Larsa, staring intently. Larsa sighed, and looked around the room as he though of where he should begin.

"I was given a crystal shard with strange properties." Larsa began. Alagon nodded, urging him to go on. "It seemed to have the ability to turn anything it touched to ice. In an instant, many people had lost their lives." He said. Alagon was still now, eyebrows pulled together in sharp concentration. "A girl named Penelo had taken the shard, and a strange being seemed to possess her. We, myself and my companion, believe that this being may be a fragment, or memory of... someone named Shiva."

"Are you certain of this? Are you absolutely certain?" Alagon asked him, eyes flashing. Larsa nodded.

"I was hoping that you could tell me what you knew of this shard, the cryst of whence it came, and Shiva itself." Larsa said, looking over to a black orb on the table beside him.

"Yes, indeed, I can tell you of these objects, and the Goddess of which you speak." Alagon told the young man. Alagon drew in a deep breath, his face unreadable, and eyes staring into Larsa's face. "I think it best to ask, beforehand, what you already know of Shiva."

"I have read the Stellazzio Grimoire. From what I understand, she is one of the gods that created the world, but that is about all I can tell you." LArsa said, a frown playing at the corners of his lips.

"Yes, indeed. Eons ago, the gods formed all that is life as we know it. Eden and his twelve children, the glorious spawn of the ultimate grace that ever walked this world. They watched over and cared for the world, yet all was not well amongst themselves. As you know, Bahamut and Ragnor were turned against eachother after their father's fall, and a war had raged upon the planet's face. The gods were forced to choose sides and they stood behind their more powerful brothers who were in for the kill. Bahamut believed that the free will of man should shape their course, whereas Ragnor believed that he should reign over them, and he was intent of gaining this power, no matter which of their kin had fallen. Shiva was madly in love with Ifrit, but she chose to side with Ragnor, and Ifrit with Bahamut. The lovers were pitted against each other, and they fought eachother as expected, but their hearts were not in it, and so neither of them would kill the other. They fought endlessly, over different ideals, yet with one common belief. Love.

"Finally, their servents had witnessed their battle and saw that it was destroying the planet. They betrayed their creators, and used all of their strength to seal these beings away in crystals, each of their element, however it took their lives. Of the hundreds of Occuria there was, less than a dozen survived. They shattered the crysts and scattered their shards across the world so that they would never be completed again."

"What would happen if a crystal was completed again?" Larsa interrupted the elder.

"First, the God or Goddess would need a host, though any Hume would not do. This Hume must have something inside of them that calls to the stone as much as the stone calls to them. And them, once all of the stones are gathered, it is assumed that this being will be reborn. As to what will happen to the person, I cannot say."

"What is it that makes Penelo more special than any one of us?" Larsa interrupted him once again, in a rush for more information like a ravenous beast on flesh.

"Penelo? Is that the girl that took the shard? That, young Lord, I cannot say for sure either; I can only speculate." Alagon said. Larsa looked disappointed; this hadn't really been much more information than what he already knew. "Have you seen her? The girl possessed?"

"Only briefly. I was in Rozzaria and before I had a chance to stop her, she leapt into the air and flew away... It was inhuman."

"It means that her powers were not as finite as they should have been... But that would mean that the source of her power was almost complete." Alagon puzzled. "Yet gathering all of the shards would be a near impossible task."

"Al-Zed Margrace has nearly completed the crystal, save for one shard. The one that Penelo took. In Rozzaria, she would have been nearly standing next to it." Larsa told him. Alagon's eyes had widened and he stood up, pacing lightly across the worn floor of his small home.

"She would have known that it was near, she would have sensed the rystal shards beckoning to her." He said. "There is not doubt in my mind that she is whole again, and it will not be long until she makes her presence known." Alagon said, turning to the black orb on his small table. He swept to it, taking it up in his fist. "The time has come."

"If this is true then you must return with me to the senate palace; you are the greatest natural force I know. Your great deeds are know to any historian in the world." Larsa told him. He stood, wincing at the pain in his arm once more. "You must help us, Sir Alagon. Your power may even be enough to match that of Shiva's-"

"There are none alive whose power matches that of a Goddess!" He snapped, and then turned back to the object in his palm. "She has been revived. She will be here soon."

"She is on her way to Archades? Do you know this for a fact? Then we must return to watn the city!" Larsa said, taking up his sword beside the door.

"You fail to understand, young Emperor, that she is on her way to me." Alagon said, a slight tone of excitement to his voice. Larsa stopped when he picked up his sword. He looked slowly over to the tall man and eyed him suspiciously.

"You meant to say that you will fight her here?" Larsa asked, turning toward the man whose back was hunched over his item.

"I mean to say," his voice deepened, "That I will not be going back to Archades and neither will you, Larsa Solidor." He said, turning quickly to Larsa and stepping closer. "Shiva's power is too great for any force man can summon up, and she will decide where our future lies."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying that though the new era is upon us, you will not live to see it flourish." Alagon told him menacingly, holding up the orb and eyes fixed. Larsa felt a sharp pain deep inside of his chest, as though the man was clutching his heart. The Sorcerer jerked his fist up ward, and Larsa had been lifted up off of the ground. "Your story will end, and so will your hold on what is rightfully the God's." he shouted, and thrust Larsa up and through the ceiling of his small hut, breaking through the thin stone with his aching arm. He was spinning, and soaring higher and higher into the sky, until Alagon had held the orb tightly in his fist, still as he concentrated. Larsa opened his eyes beyond the pain, and he found that he was high in the air. So high that he could see for miles around him, and over the horizon. Then, Alagon cast the orb down, and threw it to the stone hearth beneath his feet. As the black orb shattered, Larsa had fallen, plummeting down with unbelievable speed. The last thing he saw was that of a bright blue light soaring toward the city of Archades before all went black.

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Denz trudged on, dragging his feet, aching and worn. He barely had boots left, though the night was clear and warm. He looked up to the night sky and gaze upon the stars above the large foreign city of Archades. Yellow and golden buildings were all alight and the people walked about in the night laughing and crowded. Even Rozzaria was not as grandeur as this city, and he gazed up to the large sharp building of The Senate Palace. He stalked up to the entry doors and looked up into the helms of the tall guardsmen.

"Excuse me," he inquired, though they seemed unmoving. He reached up, and waved a hand before their visors, and they did not budge. He shrugged, gripping the sword tightly in his arms, and then began to walk through them into the palace. Only then had they moved, crossing their partisans and blocking his path, pushing him away. They then took aim and pointed the tips to his throat, and he shuffled backward.

"I-I mean no harm!" he plead. "I am here on an errand; I've a delivery for Gabranth - I believe he is a Judge Magister here in the city." He told them, standing up, brushing off his rags and then bending low to pick up the heavy white blade sheathed in leather.

"Lower your weapons." Denze heard from behind, and he turned quickly to see a tall, heavily armored figure. He was clad from head to toe, and looked just like the valiant Judge Magisters he had seen in the history text his mother kept on the bookshelf behind the bar for looks. The guards seemed to obey, lowering their weapons and nodding. The tall Judge took of their helmet, with large bulbous ornates protruding from the temples of it. It was a young and beautiful woman.

"What does a Rozzarian want with Judge Magister Gabranth?" she asked, shaking her head and wiping the bangs of her golden hair out of her face. The boy bowed slightly, and gripped the sword.

"I was sent here by Rozzaria's great Black Knight, Sir Saphryn bearing a gift. I was told to give this to him, and no one else." he said, looking down to the sword. Her eyes fell upon the hilt, and she immediately recognized the sword for what it was.

"Men, step aside, I will escort him; I, Judge Quistius shall take full responsibility for him." she told them. The guard stood aside, and she smiled, ushering Denze inside. He thanked her quickly, and turned to enter the great palace. He saw that the Antechamber was monstrous, and wide. Any clatter and footstep echoed a hundred fold due to its massive size. "What is your name, boy?" she asked.

"Me? I am Denz." He told her. She nodded, and led the way. She had such a quick stride that he nearly had to jog to keep up with her.

"Are you a noble?"

"Nay, my father is a courier and my mother a bar maid. I have one sister, Marley, and we live above the bar." he said. She kept a light face upon her eyes, and smiled down at him once in a while. Suddenly he saw a woman drapped in white robes run past them. As they progressed into the first hall, it seemed that things were in chaos. There were nurses running all around, trying to get to five places at once.

"You must forgive me, but the palace is a bit disheveled. We recently suffered an attack and many were injured... I am being called to twelve places at once - no exaggeration, I do mean precisely twelve - and I've not slept in many nights." she told him lightly. They stepped onto a lift, and she tiled the lever up. The lift jerked, and began to ascend, passing many levels as it did. It jerked to a stop, and Denze immediately began to rush off as the door opened. Judge Quistius grabbed his shoulder, and shook her head. "This is not our stop." she told him.

In rushed a girl holding books and papers in her arms, trying to organize them. "I'm late, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late I'm late!" she was chanting and nearly ran into the boy.

"I should say so," Judge Quistius said, smiling as she looked the panicked girl over. The girl heard her voice, and froze in fear. She slowly turned her head, and smiled sheepishly to the Judge. "My class ended nearly an hour ago, Selph."

"Not again!" The girl cried out, and slumped defeated.

"Really, a note of reminder wouldn't hurt." Judge Quistius told her as the lift jerked once more, and opening. She walked briskly out of the elevator and Denz followed, glancing back to the young girl in the lift before the doors closed. "A student of mine, Selph, training to be in the Archadian Guard. Though she means well, she will never make a first class Soldier with this pattern. I suppose time will tell." She said, mostly to herself as they turned corridor after corridor. Denz was already lost, and he'd never find his way back on his own. "Do you have any dreams or hopes, Denz?"

"Me? Well... I've never really thought about it, I suppose. I'll just take over my father's business, and help in the bar." he told her. "Where I'm from, my family cannot afford to have dreams." he said. Judge Quistius seemed to frown at this, though she kept walking. "However, when I am with the other children, I pretend to be an honorable knight. My father would be proud, and my family wouldn't have to work again..." he said. The Judge looked down to him, and smiled. She stopped him before a large door, and then knocked.

"You may enter," she heard. She then opened the door and let Denz enter first. She then entered behind him, closing the door. Denz took note of the large room, with windows as tall as the wall to the left. He looked onward where there stood a tall, beautiful woman in a white dress and she doned a silver and white crown. She held a stern and serious look, and he quickly averted his eyes as she looked at him. Beside her stood a tall blonde in armor dark and almost bronze, like Judge Quistius'. He must be a Judge as well, Denze thought. He nodded, and Denze did the same in return. At the desk, a man in a vest with golden red hair was concentrating, while a young man with sand coloured hair looked as though he was miles away, lost in a day dream.

"Gabranth," Judge Quistius began, pushing her small rectangular spectacles up her long, straight nose, "This boy has something for you. He's come here all the way from Rozzaria to deliver it to you."

"Well do have him come forward." The man said, turning his gaze to the boy completely. Denz stepped forward, and presented the long heavy metal sword. Gabranth eyed it, and then his look changed to one of blank surprise as he realized what he was holding.

"Sir Saphryn sends his regards, and sends you his most prized possesion." Denz said. He lifted the heavy sword up for Gabranth to take, and the man seemed as though he did not wish to touch it.

"This is..." Gabranth said, looking from the boy to the blade.

"Saphryn's sword." the redhead said, suddenly appearing beside the armor-clad Judge. "You know what this means?" he asked the Judge. "Saphryn's gone on a suicide mission."

"What do you mean?" The blonde woman in white asked them, looking suspiciously to the sword. Denz's arms were feeling the strain of the weight, and his muscles were still tired from his long journey on foot.

"The Black Knight Tradition is that he never parts with his sword. The only time another man is to touch the blade is when the Black Knight gives it to him, thus making the man his protege." The vested redhead answered her. "If Saphryn has sent this to Gabranth, then that can only mean he is going to do something he knows he will not survive, and..."

"And that he has made me his successor." Gabranth finished. "I cannot accept this." he said, though he took the leather sheathed blade from the exhausted boy. Denz dropped his arms with relief, and sighed. Judge Quistius was in awe, and the rest of them only stared, except the other young man, who was still lost in thought and staring off into the distance.

Denze then saw something out of the window; in the distance, it looked as though someone was falling from the sky, shadowed by the moon, and then there was a bright and blinding flash of blue light flying toward them.

"Gabranth, surely you must-" The Judge Quistius was abruptly silenced as the force hit the building, and everything around them was chaos. The ground was cracking, the stone and wood of the walls were flying about, and glass shards were flying toward them like bullets. Denz turned his head as one sliced him across the face, between his eyes in a diagonal cut. As the smoke and dust died down, Denz was the first to see her; A pale blue Goddess, suspended by nothing but the blue vapor beneath her feet. She glided swiftly through the large gaping hole in the side of the building, and landed lightly. Everyone froze as she saw her standing there, looking at each and every one of them. Then her eyes stopped on Balthier, and the glow in her eyes had gone away.

"What is this!?" Judge Quistius asked them. Gabranth grabbed her shoulder and stepped pass her, facing the entity.

"Shiva." he said.

"What a brave one, to speak my name with no fear in your eyes." The woman said. She caught sight of Denz and she smiled. "So you survived to see me again. You should feel privelaged, Hume child."

"Where is Penelo?" The blonde woman in white demanded. The being looked at the woman, and the glow in her eyes reappeared, the blue mist flowing out of them. The woman suddenly hunched over beside Denz, and grabbed her stomache in pain.

"You will bow when addressing me!" Shiva demanded. The redheaded man stepped between Shiva and the woman, and called her attention away.

"What is it that you want?" he demanded. Her brow lifted with impression. She stepped closer to him, and he kept his stance between the two. She then did something unexpected, and she ran a finger down the side of his face.

"My king," she said. There was not one breath in the room that wasn't held to see if they had heard her correctly. "Worry not over these mortals. You and I, we will change the world over, but only after we find Him."

"He will not change anything." The man found himself saying. "You cannot reverse what he has done."

"We do not need to, only to find that which has been lost." she told him. And Just as soon as she had said this, Mist had filled the air, and and the atmosphere was suffocating. "Come with me, love, and together we will show these Hume's a world they've not seen."

"You will only show them death. I will not help you, Shiva, and if you will not stop the bloodshed, I will stop you." He said. A strange orange mist was flowing from his eyes as it flowed from hers, and she lept back into the air before them, screeching as she did in fury.

"If you will not stand by me, then you will watch them die!" she shouted, and turned to the city. The mist about them gathered in her hands, and she drew one fist up, and cast a powerful blue flame down to the streets below. She began to cast down bright balls of blue burning ice on all of the nearby buildings. The city was crumbling under her force, and the cries of its citizens could be heard escaping into the night. For many, it would be their last. Everyone watched as she destroyed the tall towers of iron and stone alike, bringing them down to the planet with the knowledge that there was nothing they could do about it. And as she was about to turn, and blast them to Giruvegan, a girl flew through the wall beside Denz like a ghost, and hit the demonic God back and into the fires of the rubble. All Denz could see was platinum blonde hair falling down and into the flames where their battle would begin.

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The War Has Begun. TBC...


	12. Chapter 12: Showdown in the Flames

A/N: So now that papa's back in the game, let me say that the plot has just begun, and although the war is about to get nasty, the twists have only just started. I would like to say that my hiatus did end with a bang, however, because as I checked the stats of the last chapter, (11) I had found that it was the longest chapter I had written in this story. This is my most successful story, and it has gotten six times the hits than my second best, so I would like to thank you all for reading, and most of all, I'd like to thank those of you who review. It encourages an author to see the reactions of his or her fans, so sit back and enjoy as I continue our most beloved character's struggles for freedom, justice, and love in Crimson Tales: Final Fantasy XII.

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The flames of the city were spreading, and all any of the six onlookers coud see from Larsa's office was the destruction of the surrounding buildings and the people running below, trying to escape with their lives. Ashe looked from Gabranth, who had grabbed her arm to keep her from falling when Shiva had blasted away the wall, to Balthier, who was staring down into the flames with intense concentration. There was something different in him, in his eyes; they weren't his eyes. Not at all. They were changed, harder, and fierce with a blaze, and surrounded by an orange haze. Gabranth, Ashe, and Denz looked down to the lower part of burning Archades and searched for the Goddess and the mysterious girl that only Denz seemed to notice. And then, just like that, A blue blur of light shot out of the fire like a comet and flew toward the sky. However, the light was stopped suddenly when someone grabbed the Ice Queen's ankle, stopping her in full force.

"Release me!" Shiva belowed, and this blonde opposer seemed to disregard the comment, pulling Shiva down by her grip on her lower leg. The platinum girl spun the Goddess around, grabbed her shoulders and kicked her dead center of her back, sending her flying down toward the stone pavement. And in the flicker of an eye, she became a blur, and appeared on the ground. When Shiva came flying toward her, she thrust her palm into the ice blue being's core, and stopped her with ground shattering force. She held her up like a trophy, displaying her power. She then grabbed her by her silver hair, and starting a run at intense speed, thrusting Shiva's head into the stone ground and grinding her face hard as she kicked up stones in her wake. Finally Shiva had been flung into the air by her hair and then with the same speed as before, this girl kicked her hard into the ground.

Shiva stood and saw her arm dangling at her side, barely hanging on by a thread of flesh. She looked down in fury, and took hold of the sagging flesh, ripping it from her socket and tossing it aside. "You," she said, as another arm shot from the gaping hole, fresh and anew. She flexed her fingers, and one by one they cracked. "You have returned from the dead."

"I had to." Penelo said, her eyes glowing a slight golden luminescance. Shiva frowned deeply, and then held out her right hand, where a long and shimmering partisan shoot from the palm of her hand. She charged with blinding speed and swung the spear at Penelo. Penelo blocked with the metal covering her arms, the right, the left, then the right. She then parried the attack with the shin of her right leg, and bringing her left leg up into a surprisingly powerful kick to Shiva's head, sending her flying through the base of the nearby building. The crowd of people running for their lives had begun to run even faster, trampeling over those that fell. "Do you hear me Shiva? I had to come back and stop you!" Penelo called out, awaiting the demon-Goddess' next move.

Suddenly she heard a crash from up above, and she saw the tall tower of a building slice in half and falling right down toward her. It crumbled as it fell, into a hundred pieces of gigantic rubble. Penelo braced herself as she saw the first thick, flat piece of building heading right for her, and when it was upon her she thrust her legs and fist up, shattering the concrete like thin glass. She then began to jump from debris to debris, rising higher into the air. Suddenlt with a slicing flash, the building across from this one was falling as well. Penelo kicked hard and broke the pieces that threatened her ascendence and used the others as platforms. The wind rushed past her ears, and then she saw a flash of blue before her. Shiva had thrust her knee into the girl's neck, smashing her body against the wall she had just lept from. When Penelo landed on another slab of stone, she landed on the girl's shoulders, wrapped her legs around her upper body, and then thrust her back, flipping her so that her head smashed hard into this solid piece as well.

"Foolish girl, if you wish to fight against me then I will show you no mercy!" Shiva seethed, the words leaving her teeth like venom from a serpent. They landed on another large flat ton of brick and Penelo wasted no time in flinging her arms down in a spiraling twirl around her body, spinning forth as Shiva blocked the twisted punches. Penelo added her legs to the tornado equation and Shiva grabbed her leg, stopping her completely, and swung her like a club around her head, around and around and finally into the ground. She then thrust her heels into Penelo's back and jumped from the spot into the air. "Where did such a weak human gain such power?" Shiva called to her, her voice echoing as she screeched.

Penelo pushed herself up with her arms and thrust from the large slab of building as hard as she could before it smashed into the ground with tons of force. She landed on the solid ground and looked around. "I was given this power to defeat you. You're not wanted here, Shiva; go back!"

Penelo then felt an iron clutch grab her ankle. Shiva's fist had emerged from the ground and she held Penelo there. Shiva lept from the ground, tearing up the asphalt and rubble, and flew into the air, Penelo's ankle in her grip. They soared high into the night air, higher than the lower buildings, out of the flames, and then higher above the entire city. Shiva was flying so high that Penelo felt the world grow colder. Shiva then swung Penelo around as she had done before, swinging her round and round, round and round. Penelo thought she would die of the vomiting sensation growing in her stomache, and then Shiva threw her as hard as she could to the ground. Penelo soared back into the city, hitting the pieces of rock and stone that had not fallen to the ground yet due to their unrealmly speed, and she hit the ground with such a force that the buildings around her in every direction cam crumbling down upon their shattered foundation.

"Penelo!" Ashe called out, and Gabranth held her from jumping right out of the building. Balthier seemed to have snapped out of his trance, and he ran to the edge, looking down into the smoke and rubble.

"Damn it, Penelo," he said under his breath. "Do not try to get yourself killed over being brave, not again."

"Where is she?" Vaan asked, searching for her fervently. Meanwhile, Shiva was high above the City of Archades with a smirk upon her lips. She lifted her hand, and all around her, clouds darkened the sky, and blotted out the moon. She gathered all of the mist she could summon in the palm of her hand, and then cast down a great force that proved Nethicite was not the most powerful source to reckon with. The power shock crushed the ground, and all of the buildings in the central area had been blasted away. The clunks of buildings that had been tossed out form the explosion had been crashing through the towers away from the site, and thus bringing down more of the city. Shiva lifted her other arm, about to bring the city down completely, when she heard a voice echoing through her ears. _That is enough! Come to me, my companion, and let us continue with the search! _the voice told her. She looked to the edge of the forest where it had come from, and with her Goddess sight, she could see the old hut on the skirts. She lowered her hand, and flashed to the hut where the beckoning voice called.

Down below, in the heat of the destruction, a gloved fist burst out from the rockand rubble. Penelo struggled to climb out, breathing the thick air as she did. She crawled onto her knees, and then stood on her own two feet, looking around. Stalks of fire, and tall pillars of smoke was all the eye could see. Now Penelo fully understood why she had been given this power; if she did not stop Shiva from achieving her mission, this would be the future. For her, for her friends, for the world.

In the distance, she saw something emerging from the ground. A small boy, maybe ten or eleven years of age. Penelo stumbled her way over to his aid, and took his hand, pulling him up and out of the gravel. He coughed, and heaved, trying to breath in the heat of the atmosphere. He rubbed the dirt from his eyes, and then he looked up into the face of the angel who had saved him from the monsterous demon.

"Please, the others, I don't know where they are." he told her, coughing into his fist. Penelo frowned, looking around. They could be anywhere in this mess if they fell from the demolished senate palace. They could even be...

"We'll find them." Penelo told him, offering him a smile that he took, though did not return.

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"Alright everybody! There are still survivors; men, women and children inside of the city! I want a team of volunteers to go and see how many can be rescued!" Tomaj said, looking to the group of men before him. They were all people, nobles and the unfortunate alike, who had just escaped the city. They all just shifted from foot to foot, looking around awkwardly at one another. "Is there no one amongst you brave enough to go back? For your neighbors? For your families? I traveled with my friend from Rabanastre and she is still in there! Will no one come with me?"

"I will go." said a brave young man in the crowd. His friend chimed his volunter and so did the woman standing beside them.

"Aye, as will I!" said another brave soul. A man clad in Imperial armor stepped forward and walked up to Tomaj.

"I am Captain Cecil. My squad, The Deep Eyes, are still inside of the city. If you will help me find them, my men will help you rescue until every soul is safely evacuated; no rest, no sleep." The man assured him. Tomaj smirked, and patted the Captain on his shoulder.

"Good man." he said. The Captain nodded lightly, and then stepped back into the crowd to stand next to his fellow volunteers. "Everyone wait here where it is safe, and we will-"

"What is that?" An elderly woman exclaimed. She was looking out onto the horizon, into the fields, and beyond the hills. Tomaj glanced over his shoulder where he could see something in the near distance. He couldn't make out what it was exactly, it was like water slowly taking over the land. Captain Cecil stepped forth, peering through a pair of monocular he happened to have on his person.

"Excuse me, young man, but I think you may want to have a look at thise." Cecil said, handing Tomaj the pair and dropping his arm to his side, hand resting on the hilt of his iron sword. Tomaj lifted the monocular and looked through into the black shadow taking over the hills. He was shocked.

hundreds of men, all clad in armor and marching toward them. It was an army. Whoever had planned this attack had done it with such intricate coordination that left little chance of avoiding. He saw the Rozzarion flag hoisted high upon one of the chocobo's, and a man with a black smokey shadow looming over him, which Tomaj recognized to be one of the Margrace kin, though which one he could not say. "Great... Just what we need. When did Rozzaria decide to invade!? I thought that was all settled two years ago. Vayne, dead, ringing any bells?" he said, handing the monocular back to the Captain.

"Any chance that they just happened to be in the neighborhod and decided to come help us out?" One of the volunteers asked the two. Tomaj shook his head and laughed, while the Captain glanced down at the man in disbelief.

"Not likely." Cecil snapped, and turned heel. "We must lead them back into the city. If they are an invading army, then they will not be safe here."

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A ringed hand emerged from the dirt and dust, thrusting up into the air, and then slamming into the ground, cluthing at whatever it could grab. Its brother soon joined the moment, and together they pushed upward, pulling their master from the ground. He used all the strength his shoulders could give him, and pushed himself out of this hole, freeing one leg and then the other to stand on. Balthier patted all manner of objects off of his shirt and vest, and ran a hand through his smooth hair, a long, low whistle escaping his lips at the sight of the damage the battle had wrought.

"And I thought The Bahamut had layed some wrecked..." he said under his breath, looking around. In the distance, he saw her. Not the fearsome Ice Demon the world feared, nor the beautiful angel who was somehow miraculously able to fight off said being. No, this face was graceful, beautiful, and most of all, alive. As Balthier walked closer to where she stood, he could see that this was no mirage.

"You haven't fleed yet; isn't that what a Sky Pirate does?" Fran mocked him, looking all about her as she did. The smoke had blocked the sky from view as they stood amongst the gargantuan flames. Windows and all matter of glass was shattering around then in random placed due to the intensity of the heat.

"You're alive." Balthier said, suddenly catching her off guard by taking her in his arms and holding her. She blinked a few times, and then smiled, bringing her arms around him in return. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"After all this time, it was better to leave you to your life." She told him. "But now I see that without me, you've all lost yourselves. I leave you alone for five minutes and already the city of Archades is falling all arounf you." She told him, smiling with a wink as he let go and began to pace.

"Lost ourselves... no better way to say it, is there?" He said, fingers on his chin.

"It has been two years since we all fought, side by side. Somehow we all lost something within us; something that ignited the spark to battle on, and do what is just. If we were still in any shape or form as we used to be, this wouldn't have happened." She told him, looking around them. Balthier kicked a stone out of his path, and sighed.

"I suppose there's naught we can do about that..." he said, shaking his head. She was absolutely right. When trouble had found them, they stood there and watched instead of fighting. They fought when they ought to have negotiated. "Maybe there's no going back to that point after so long."

"Perhaps you're right." Fran frown, looking about his face. He had changed so much since they last saw eachother, though he still looked exactly the same. It was quite a contradiction. "Have we lost what was between us? Our connection?"

"Never." he said, glancing over and smirking to the beautiful angel that made his heart ache with a lung crushing force. "The leading man needs a cohort, after all." He said, holding out his fist. Fran brought her fist down on his and the two were back into the old flow of things, just like days past.

"Balthier!" they heard. "Fran!" Ashe yelled as she made her way across the uneven and awkward ground made up of the broken towers. Her heels made if difficult to balance on slanted pieces of rock and iron, but she made it to them, tripping at the last minute. Balthier caught her, and she stood up, nodding her thanks and taking in a deep breath. "Penelo - did you see her?"

"I did." Fran said, furrowing her brows in concentration. "Penelo has been given the power to stop Shiva, but she cannot do this alone. Perhaps that is why they did not let me fade..." Fran thought aloud.

"They?" Ashe asked her. "Who gave Penelo power? What are you talking about?"

"It does not matter now, what is important is that we find Penelo, as well as everyone else. Only when we are all together again can we begin to fight back." Balthier said, spotting someone else emerge from the shadows. "Which shouldn't be too hard. Seems like you're all drawn to be. I don't blame you, of course, I am quite the charismatic fellow these days."

"Don't flatter yourself." Basch said as he stepped up to the group.

"Who else is going to do it for me?" Balthier smirked.

"Shiva... How do we fight such a being?" Ashe asked them. Fran looked away with a frown, having no answer. Balthier sighed, and Basch brought his brows together in frustration.

"It seems near impossible. Not while she possesses this sort of power." Basch said, looking about them.

"No it's not!" they heard from off in the darkness. Suddenly from in between the group, a blonde head poked out of the ground, looking dazed and confused. Vaan began to crawl out the the ground, Basch grabbing his elbow to help him. "We just - argh- have to -ugh!- know that we can - how do you climb out of here!?" he said, trying to free his legs. Suddenly, something unexpected happened. Everyone laughed. In the midst of the ash and death, they laughed lightheartedly at his attempt. "There. You see? We haven't lost what we had before, we just had to find it within our hearts again." Vaan said, looking around into each of their eyes.

"What we had was the light. Our friendship, laughing together when things got really heavy." he said, and placed his hands on his hips. "We just have to know that we can do this and somehow we will."

"The world must be nice from your eyes' point of view." Balthier smirked. Ashe smiled, taking a break from her stern glances, and then she looked to Basch, who was staring at her. She walked past him, squeezing his shoulder to comfort him as she did, wandering off a bit while the group discussed what course of action to take next. She glanced over her shoulder, where Basch was staring at her as she walked off. He then strode over to where she stood, looking down at her hand.

"I've seen you staring at me." she said boldly, looking at the ring on the finger next to her pinky. Basch shifted his stance slightly, glancing around.

"For how long?" he smiled, wondering where she was going with this sudden approach. She drew in a deep breath, and then look the ring off of her finger, leaving only the one on her middle finger.

"Ever since you came back to tell Larsa of your doings in Mt. Bur-Omisace." she told him, smiling as she examined the ring between her fingers. She then looked up to his face, and directly into his eyes. His heart stopped exactly where it was in his chest, and he tried to avert his eyes, tried to pull them away, but he couldn't. "Why?" she asked. He fell silent, and lowered his head

"For your protection... It is an instinct I am acustomed to, looking after you that is. From the days when I was your protector." he told her. She frown, and looked to the ground.

"Is that all, then?"

"I..." he began, but then snapped his mouth shut. He shook his head, and looked up and into the round, beautiful face of his once Lady Ashelia. "I do not know." She seemed unhappy with his final word, and then she took his left hand in her own. She placed the ring in his palm, and closed his fist around the small silver object.

"If I were to tell you that I have need of no protector, how then would you look at me?" she countered, pressing him on. He frowned deeper, his mouth sealed with words he refused to say. "Then do me the favor of holding onto this for me." she told him, walking around him back to the group. "Do not give it back to me until you have your answer." she called over her shoulder. He looked down to the ring in his palm, and watched it reflect the fires of the world around him. He then curled his fingers into a fist again, and held it close to his chest, against his armor. As Ashe rejoined the group, they all looked over to the same direction as though someone had called them.

"Look! Over there!" Vaan pointed. Out of the flames walked a girl, lithe and curved with a dance to her step, holding the hand of a young boy. "Penelo!"

Each of them felt a strong feeling within themselves grow as she took step after step, closing the distance between them all. As if by her presence, the final piece of their shattered bond was whole again, and now they were finally themselves once more, if only in this moment alone.

"Penelo! You're okay!" Vaan said as he thrust himself around her. She smiled, and nearly cried when he held her, and held him back tightly. Suddenly everyone in the group was greeted with a bone shattering hug from the girl as she held them to make sure they were real and she was truly alive. Ashe was next, and she smiled tenderly as the blonde girl hugged her waist, snuggling into her dress. Then Basch, though due to his armor he was lucky enough to survive the squeezing. Then Fran laughed as the girl took hold of the Viera who had sacrificed herself for her well being. And then she looked to Balthier, and smiled, blushing slightly. She didn't touch him, and although he wondered why, he wasn't going to press it; he enjoyed his ribs in one piece.

"We're all together again." She said, looking around her. "And Fran, you're..."

"Has anyone seen Ms. Quistius?" The Boy chimed in. Everyone looked down to the delivery boy, who had yet to be introduced to them.

"Right, the delivery boy. What did you say your name was?" Balthier said, lifting an inquisitive brow.

"I didn't." The boy replied, looking up into each of their faces. "My name is Denz." he said.

"Ah, well good to see you alive then, Denz." Basch said, offering him a light smile. "I am Judge Magister Gabranth, this is her Lady Ashelia, Queen of Dalmasca. The kind lass who brought you to us is Penelo." he told him, lifting his hand in Penelo's direction. She smiled and waved. "The beautiful Viera is Fran, the young boy there is Vaan, and the blasted scum of a sky-pirate is Balthier." Basch smirked.

"Say," Balthier eyed Basch in mock anger, "I resemble that remark." he smirked. The group lightly laughed, and Denz looked up into their faces in wonder.

"Don't worry," Ashe told him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You're in good hands." she smiled. She then stood, and looked around to the once familiar faces. "I believe it is time for us to fight once more, even if we do not quite understand what Shiva's goal is."

"Whatever it is, it can't be good. She must be stopped, and we can start by finding Larsa." Balthier said. "Even if he didn't get the chance to fight beside us much before, he is still as much a part of this team as any other. And I believe it is time for a change of uniform, m'lady." Balthier told Ashe, looking her over from head to toe. "Fighting in a dress won't do us much good now will it?"

"I have to agree. It is time to take up The Sword Of Kings, and my Treaty Blade once more." she nodded.

"Hey!" They all heard, and turned to the direction the voice had called from. It was Tomaj, running toward them.

"Exactly how many people are going to keep popping out of the rubble?" Balthier said, flailing his arms about.

"Tomaj!" Penelo said, "What is it?" she asked him as he caught up to them, bending over to catch his breath.

"Am I ever glad to see you... We have... a situation..." he said, heaving in and out as he spoke.

"I can only assume that he means a troublesome situation." Ashe frowned, and Balthier chortled.

"What other kind of situation would _we_ ever run into?" he smirked.

"I don't know if it's the smoke or the fumes I've been breathing in, but... I think I just saw an army of dead corpses marhing toward the city." He said, looking from face to face, knowing that they would think him insane. "I'm only relaying what I saw..."

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A/N: Thank you for reading thus far, and of course I'd like to personally thank Zaz9-Zaa0 for being the first to review. Like I said before, reviews keep an author motivated, so thank you so much. This chapter was possible because of you and all the others who've reviewed :)


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